 |
Chapters 1-4
A/N: This is copied and posted directly from the original site at http://www.nautibitz.com/fic/ringaround01.html
Ring Around the Buffy
A Round Robin Series by Multiple Authors. No longer in progress.
Parts 1-4
The Story: Buffy and Spike go cross country and under cover to infiltrate a vampire human slavery ring.
Rating: PG - NC17.
Disclaimer: None of us own any of this, Joss is King.
Spoilers: General Season 5.
Written By (in order of appearance): Annamarie, tanith, VicNoir, Kristin (aka Love's Bitch), Blaque Kat, Spikelicious, Tracy (AKA Jericho TGF), Jessa, NautiBitz, Raven, Saber ShadowKitten
Other authors scheduled (but never wrote): Trish, Pandora, Caitlin (AKA Spikes_Luv), Suaine, Angel Eternal, Python Chick (AKA Spike's Childe), Taulmaril, Patti, and Maggie.
Part 1 by Annamarie
"A what kind of ring?" Buffy asked.
"A vampire human-slave trading ring," Giles answered. "They are kidnapping humans, and selling them, using them for food and, um, other things."
"You mean like sex?" Xander asked. "That's just disgusting."
"You find sex disgusting?" Anya frowned at her lover.
"When did they get so organized Giles?" Buffy asked, ignoring the interruption. "I mean, most vamps I've met just sort of take what they want, till I stake 'em and they get all dusty. Since when did they start buying their meals?" She leaned against the round table, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
"They tend to go after what they would consider rare specimens, I believe. In certain circles it is seen as a status symbol," her Watcher answered.
"What kind of rare specimens?" Willow looked up from her book.
"Maybe redheads." Xander offered.
"Not quite Xander. The more difficult the capture, the more valuable the, um, commodity," Giles told him.
"Is that right?" Spike asked. Buffy jumped, she'd nearly forgotten that he was there, sitting quietly on the counter. "Bet I could get a real good price for a Slayer then."
"Try it bloodbreath, and you'll wish you were a big pile of dust," she told him. He just winked at her, smirking.
Rolling her eyes she turned back to Giles. "So, how do we find these guys?"
"Yes, well, that's the problem, you see. I don't know where they are. And there are probably several groups."
"So…?"
He looked at her uncomfortably. "Um, Giles, not liking the vibe here," she told him when he didn't answer immediately.
"Buffy, they are getting bolder. They must be stopped."
"OK...and?"
"You are going to need to go undercover to find them."
"Undercover? Uh-uh. I think you've got me confused with Secret Agent Buffy. I'm Slayer Buffy. I find vamps, I stake vamps, sometimes I even hack 'em with a sword."
"Buffy, this is serious, their victims are kept and brainwashed somehow into compliance. It is an abomination."
"Abomination, gotcha, but how am I supposed to go undercover? There's no way I can pass as a vampire, too much heartbeat, not enough fang-age."
"No, but you could pass as a vampire's human... um... slave."
"Huh?"
"Of course, you would need a vampire who was willing to..."
"Uh, uh," Buffy cut him off. "Not happening. Not playing slave girl, no way. No love slave, no blood slave, uh-uh! And if you even suggest what I think you're thinking..." She didn't dare look at Spike.
Xander leaned forward in his chair. "Um, Giles, I gotta agree with Buffy on this one. I don't really see her passing as anyone's slave. Besides, wouldn't she be recognized? She has a pretty big rep you know."
"You could wear a disguise. Always wondered how you'd look as a brunette," suggested Spike.
"Shut up Spike. So not helping here."
Giles removed his glasses and settled them in his pocket. "Please consider it Buffy. Think of the people under their power, it must be a living hell for them."
Buffy stood up straight, her eyes wide and unblinking on his. He wouldn't, he couldn't, think that she would, no. "No. Giles, I'm going out to patrol now. Forget it, it's not going to happen. We find another way."
Part 2 by tanith
"Oi, Slayer! Wait!"
Throwing her head back and mouthing "Why me?" at the heavens, Buffy slowed to a halt. "What is it, Spike? I don't remember asking you to follow me."
"Good thing for you, too," Spike said, sidling up beside her. "'Cause if you had, I'd feel obligated to be on the other side of town by now."
"Oh, that's mature."
He shrugged and lit a cigarette.
Buffy let out a histrionic sigh and started walking again, resigned to his company. "Fine. What do you want, Spike?"
"I wanna talk you out of being such a stupid git."
She whirled around at him. "Excuse me?"
"It's just that you're being awfully selfish about this, pet. It's unlike you."
"Why do you even care? I'd think you'd be heading the rah-rah squad for these guys."
"Nah. Pom poms aren't my style," Spike said, internally fuming that she still refused to see him outside of her narrow little "vamp box." She was sodding blind, she was. "Besides," he said. "A slave ring? That's nasty business. Anyone using mojo to get a meal deserves to get his ass kicked, or we're going to have to deal with more graduates from the Dracula School of Ponces."
Buffy turned and smiled at him, devilishly. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't mind control part of Drusilla's MO?"
Great. She just had to go and bring that up. She was making this talking-some-sense-into-her business bloody difficult.
"Er...right," he said. "Well, I never liked it when she did that."
This was a lie. It had been quite amusing at times. A smile rose to his lips as he remembered one particular incident...Grinning, he filed it away as a good story he could tell the Nibblet later - once he'd performed a severe edit, of course.
"Look, that's not the point," Spike said, yanking his mind back on track. "Point is, innocent people are dying, and it's your job to be all hero-y and stop it from happening. Having to pretend not to loath me for a couple of days seems like a small price to pay to preserve, er..."
"...Truth, Justice, and the American way?" Buffy finished, her voice absolutely drenched with sarcasm. "Could you be any more transparent with your motivations?"
Spike put on his best innocent face. In truth, he was far from miserable at the idea of having to go undercover with her. Course, he'd been watching too many X-Files reruns lately...
"All I know is that you have this..." he tried to say the next words with sincerity and failed miserably. "'...Sacred duty,' right? You're the Slayer. Scourge of all things nasty and evil. Protector of whelps the world over. And you're just going to turn your back on that 'cause being around me too long gets your panties in a twist?"
She glared at him, her mouth opening to shoot him a retort.
He beat her to it. "'You're a pig, Spike.' Yes, I know." He sighed. "Just what will it take to convince you? Lemme guess: one of your little Scooby pals to get kidnapped." He took one last drag on his cigarette and then flicked it away, shaking his head."Nah. Too obvious."
****
Tara had her face screwed up in a manner that suggested she was sucking on something unpleasant.
"Honey, it's okay," Willow said sweetly. "You're allowed to yawn."
Looking relieved, Tara opened her mouth and let it out. "Sorry," she said. "I know I shouldn't be this tired."
"You want to go home and get some rest?" her lover asked. "I think we're only going to be researching for...oh, the next four hours."
Tara's smile was interrupted by yet another yawn. "I guess I'd better."
"Don't feel guilty," Anya said, not taking her eyes off the large, dusty book spread out in front of her. "We don't really need you."
Suddenly, the ex-demon could feel every pair of eyes in the room boring into her. "For researching," she quickly amended.
"Anya, remember what we discussed?" Xander said. "About thinking before you speak?"
"It's okay," Tara said, gathering her books. "I know what she meant." She gave Willow a chaste kiss on the lips and headed out the door. "Don't be too long, okay?"
Willow smiled at her and then went back to her book.
Tara tugged her sweater closer to her body as she stepped out into the night. It always came as a shock how cold sunny California could get at night. It's a desert climate, Tara reflected. Not that knowing this made it any more comfortable. She began to walk faster, eager to get inside and under the warmth of her comforter.
She was less than a hundred yards from her dorm when a huge vampire stepped into her path.
Tara's first reaction was, naturally, one of fear. The vamp towered over her, his lips curled into an ugly grin. "Why, what's a pretty little thing like you doing out at an ungodly hour such as this?"
Run, Tara thought, frantically. Run! Only...she didn't want to run.
"I was waiting for you, of course," Tara said, in a voice that, were Willow to ever hear it, would probably cause her to drop into a dead faint, and then wake up screaming that her girlfriend had been possessed by Faith.
"I'm right here, baby," the vamp said.
Tara flashed him a seductive grin and jumped him, sending books scattering across Sunnydale's darkened streets.
Part 3 by VicNoir
Spike felt as badly as a quasi-evil, desperately horny creature of the night could reasonably be expected to feel about Tara's kidnapping. But not badly enough to take no satisfaction from the position he now found himself in: lord and master of the object of his desire. Even if it was all pretend, he couldn't help but get a tremendous thrill from the idea of showing off in front of all the other vamps, for within the confines of this little under cover operation, he got to play the biggest bad of all: the vamp who'd captured the Slayer.
"Oi! Slave-girl! Get your arse out here an lemme check the dye-job!"
Scowling, Buffy emerged from the bathroom of the motel room rubbing her newly darkened hair with a towel. Spike grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled the towel from her hands. Pushing the hair back from her face, he smiled down out her.
"Not bad, Slayer. Gives you that mysterious, exotic look I used to fancy."
Buffy yanked the towel back and brushed past him in annoyance to gaze at her reflection in the mirror across the room. "Used to fancy? What, you're not into brunettes anymore?"
"Er...well...yeah, I like a dark-haired bird well enough." He searched his pockets for cigarettes and came up empty. "You hungry?"
"Mmmmm...yeah. There's a McDonald's across the street." She looked pointedly at the vampire and then at the door.
"Right. Why don't I toddle over and bring you back somethin'? I could use the air." In fact, he was planning on shoplifting some smokes from the 7-Eleven next door. "What's your poison?"
"A Big Mac. Fries. Coke. Super-size it. And a Happy Meal with nuggets. And an apple pie."
"Anybody ever mention you eat like a dock-worker?"
"Go to hell, Spike."
"Not that I object, mind you. In fact, I'd prefer a bit more meat on my slave than what's currently on you. Maybe by the time we get back to Sunnyhell, you'll have a curve or two" His words were cut off by her left to his jaw. He rubbed it absently, continuing to grin at her. "Now, pet, remember what the Watcher said. No bruisin' your master, might blow our cover."
"Yeah, well, I doubt that Giles would blame me at this point. Why do you always have to be so...so..."
"Irresistible? Desirable? Sexy?"
"Disgusting. Revolting. Irritating."
"Oh, Slayer, you know you like me. If you didn't, I wouldn't be able to provoke you so easily."
He had a point. One that she was barely able to acknowledge to herself, and intended never to acknowledge to him.
"OUT! NOW! And I don't care if you ever come back!"
"Oh, but you do. And I will." He watched as she stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. Chuckling, he left the room in search of grease, salt and sugar for his beloved Slayer, and nicotine for himself.
****
When Buffy pulled over to get gas the following evening, she poked at the sleeping vampire covered in blankets in the back seat of the rental car.
"Wake up, Spike. Sun's going down. Your turn to drive."
He sat up and yawned, rubbing at his eye with the heel of his hand. Then he fished a bag of blood from the cooler on the floor of the car and slid into game-face, piercing the plastic and sucking the bag dry in under ten seconds. She watched him, fascinated.
"Wow. You've really got that down to an art-form."
"Yeah, well, it's amazing how proficient you can get when you've no bleedin' choice."
"You ready to drive?"
"Yeah. Just lemme wake up a bit first. Where're you goin'?"
"Gotta use the bathroom. Be right back."
He glanced out the window and saw the last sliver of a blood-red sun slide behind the desert horizon. Stepping out of the car, he watched her disappear into the gas station restroom. He slouched against the fender and lit a cigarette. The hot, dry breeze blew his nearly-white hair into curls around his face and threw a light spray of sand against the black leather of his duster.
A black Cadillac pulled up to the other side of the pumps. Spike immediately noticed that the windows had been painted out with heavy black grease. He stubbed out the remainder of his cigarette and pulled himself up to his full height to face the large, dark creature that emerged from the driver's seat.
"Evenin', mate. Nice night, inn'it?"
The driver of the other car flashed a glance in his direction, and recognition lit in his eyes. "Hey, you're...aren't you...?"
"We've met, mate? 'Cause I can't rightly say I recall you."
The other vampire flashed his game-face briefly, and Spike countered with his most charming smile. "Ah, yes, Barrett, right? Peter Barrett? You were on the guest-list for Dru's little get-together a few years back"
"Yeah, sorry I couldn't make that. Although I heard it was interrupted by a visit from the Slayer."
"Yeah, well, that was just a bit of unplanned entertainment. So, what are you doin' in these parts?" He saw Buffy emerge from the restroom over the other vampire's shoulder.
"I'm on my way to Vegas. Got a little...business opportunity waiting for me there." Barrett ran his credit card through the slot in the pump and reached for the nozzle. "Hey, didn't I hear something about you? Something about the military fixing it so you can't hunt or kill anymore?"
"Yeah, that was a bit of a problem for a few months. But I solved it."
"So you're all better now?"
"Right as rain, mate. Why do you ask?" Buffy had slowed her approach and was looking hard at Spike. He waggled one eyebrow at her in an unspoken message.
"Thought you might be interested in this business opportunity I mentioned." Barrett replaced the nozzle and screwed the gas cap back into place. "It's an auction, actually."
"Yeah? What kind of auction?"
Barrett smiled. "The kind you'd like. Slaves. Human slaves. We've got hundreds of 'em, all ripe and ready and willing to serve. Sound like something you'd" Barrett never got to finish his sales-pitch, because he had become a pile of dust that mixed with the sand drifts around the gas pumps and blew away into the night. Buffy tucked her stake back into the inner pocket of her jacket and grinned at Spike. "Vegas, huh?"
He returned her smile with enthusiasm. "Tell me, Slayer, have I ever shown you my Elvis impersonation?"
Part 4 by Love's Bitch (Kristin)
Spike took another long drag from his cigarette, thinking over the plan. They weren't far from Vegas now, and he was anxious to get there and start acting like a master again. His body tingled with anticipation of being the Big Bad once more, and for all to see. True it was only temporary, and all an act, but he'd always reveled in being the center of attention, and this little meat market would be no exception. The blonde vampire had definite plans for the little play he and Buffy had to put on for the others. He flicked the butt out the window and was about to light another smoke when he heard a low moan from the backseat, where Buffy currently slept. He let a smirk light his features as he listened to her change positions and reached again for his pack of smokes.
This time, Buffy giggled, and Spike forgot all about his nicotine. "Spiiiiike...." In utter shock, he forgot what he was doing and the car swerved ever so slightly to the right. Grabbing the wheel, trying to keep the car from crashing, as well as trying not to wake up the newly-brunette slayer in the back seat, Spike decided to pull the car over for a moment, to enjoy the show.
Once the car was parked, he turned in his seat and went into vamp face so he could see her in the dark. She lay on her side, facing him, arms wrapped tight around herself, and a light smile playing on her sleeping features. She did nothing for a moment, and Spike felt a stab of tenderness for her, so he reached out to brush an errant strand of hair from her face. When his hand was about two inches from her cheek, she started, turning her head into his hand, and giggling again. "Yes..." she moaned and suddenly Spike found it difficult to sit still.
A thousand ideas flew through his brain, most of which included jumping in the back seat with her, some of which actually included continuing to drive. Instead, he sat there, watching in silence, unsure of what to do. She made his mind up for him with her next outburst.
"Yes, Spike..." her perfect mouth spoke his name like it was poetry, "Yes, master..."
He didn't waste a moment's time after that remark, and started to climb over the seat. He shed his duster and his demon visage on the way over, and steadied himself over the slayer's sleeping form. He closed his eyes, leaning in for a kiss when he felt something sharp and distinctly wooden pressing into his chest. He opened his eyes to see a very amused Slayer looking back at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"My turn to drive already?" she asked, smiling.
He was caught. Anything he said right then would either result in stakage or at least bruising, so he decided he may as well have fun. "You just looked so sweet and innocent, love. I thought you needed a little...debauchery." He winked at her, and she pushed him roughly off of her onto the floor of the back seat.
As she climbed into the front seat, she said offhandedly, "I've been awake since you stopped the car. Just keep in mind that the only reason you aren't dust is because they have Tara."
With a satisfied half-smirk on his face, Spike laid back on the seat, closed his eyes, and replayed the feeling of his Slayer's body laying under him, not fighting him. It wasn't until ten minutes later, when they were back on the road that he realized she'd moaned his name BEFORE he stopped the car.
Oh this was going to be too much fun.
****
At just past two a.m. they pulled onto the Vegas strip, searching for a hotel. Buffy was in awe of all the bright colors and flashing lights, but Spike had seen it all before, and was currently telling one of his less than amusing "Me and Dru" stories. Buffy just rolled her eyes.
"So anyway, Me and Dru take the third dancing girl, right? Right off the bloody stage, but everyone is so drunk, no one notices. Champagne for everyone, they had. So, Elvis is down to two girls on stage with him-"
"Elvis? Why in God's name is Elvis in this story?"
"Well, pet, if you'd been listening," Spike began, but stopped when he saw the marquis of the Spiked Collar Hotel and Nightclub. Smiling at the name, he pointed the sign out to Buffy.
She read aloud, "'Host of the annual Creatures of the Night 'Date' Auction'." She laughed, "Well, they don't do a great job of hiding themselves, do they?"
"Looks like this is our stop. Pull in, lets get ourselves a room."
Spike couldn't hide his amusement at Buffy's disgusted reaction. She'd forgotten they could only have one room, he knew. And he also knew that being alone with him in a hotel made her nervous. And he couldn't wait to take advantage of that.
After they parked, as they were approaching the front door to the hotel section, Spike grabbed her hand, dropped another devilish wink, and said, "Now remember pet, I like you to smile when you say, 'Yes, Master Spike.'"
Ring Around the Buffy
A Round Robin Series by Multiple Authors. No longer in progress.
Parts 1-4
The Story: Buffy and Spike go cross country and under cover to infiltrate a vampire human slavery ring.
Rating: PG - NC17.
Disclaimer: None of us own any of this, Joss is King.
Spoilers: General Season 5.
Written By (in order of appearance): Annamarie, tanith, VicNoir, Kristin (aka Love's Bitch), Blaque Kat, Spikelicious, Tracy (AKA Jericho TGF), Jessa, NautiBitz, Raven, Saber ShadowKitten
Other authors scheduled (but never wrote): Trish, Pandora, Caitlin (AKA Spikes_Luv), Suaine, Angel Eternal, Python Chick (AKA Spike's Childe), Taulmaril, Patti, and Maggie.
Part 1 by Annamarie
"A what kind of ring?" Buffy asked.
"A vampire human-slave trading ring," Giles answered. "They are kidnapping humans, and selling them, using them for food and, um, other things."
"You mean like sex?" Xander asked. "That's just disgusting."
"You find sex disgusting?" Anya frowned at her lover.
"When did they get so organized Giles?" Buffy asked, ignoring the interruption. "I mean, most vamps I've met just sort of take what they want, till I stake 'em and they get all dusty. Since when did they start buying their meals?" She leaned against the round table, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
"They tend to go after what they would consider rare specimens, I believe. In certain circles it is seen as a status symbol," her Watcher answered.
"What kind of rare specimens?" Willow looked up from her book.
"Maybe redheads." Xander offered.
"Not quite Xander. The more difficult the capture, the more valuable the, um, commodity," Giles told him.
"Is that right?" Spike asked. Buffy jumped, she'd nearly forgotten that he was there, sitting quietly on the counter. "Bet I could get a real good price for a Slayer then."
"Try it bloodbreath, and you'll wish you were a big pile of dust," she told him. He just winked at her, smirking.
Rolling her eyes she turned back to Giles. "So, how do we find these guys?"
"Yes, well, that's the problem, you see. I don't know where they are. And there are probably several groups."
"So…?"
He looked at her uncomfortably. "Um, Giles, not liking the vibe here," she told him when he didn't answer immediately.
"Buffy, they are getting bolder. They must be stopped."
"OK...and?"
"You are going to need to go undercover to find them."
"Undercover? Uh-uh. I think you've got me confused with Secret Agent Buffy. I'm Slayer Buffy. I find vamps, I stake vamps, sometimes I even hack 'em with a sword."
"Buffy, this is serious, their victims are kept and brainwashed somehow into compliance. It is an abomination."
"Abomination, gotcha, but how am I supposed to go undercover? There's no way I can pass as a vampire, too much heartbeat, not enough fang-age."
"No, but you could pass as a vampire's human... um... slave."
"Huh?"
"Of course, you would need a vampire who was willing to..."
"Uh, uh," Buffy cut him off. "Not happening. Not playing slave girl, no way. No love slave, no blood slave, uh-uh! And if you even suggest what I think you're thinking..." She didn't dare look at Spike.
Xander leaned forward in his chair. "Um, Giles, I gotta agree with Buffy on this one. I don't really see her passing as anyone's slave. Besides, wouldn't she be recognized? She has a pretty big rep you know."
"You could wear a disguise. Always wondered how you'd look as a brunette," suggested Spike.
"Shut up Spike. So not helping here."
Giles removed his glasses and settled them in his pocket. "Please consider it Buffy. Think of the people under their power, it must be a living hell for them."
Buffy stood up straight, her eyes wide and unblinking on his. He wouldn't, he couldn't, think that she would, no. "No. Giles, I'm going out to patrol now. Forget it, it's not going to happen. We find another way."
Part 2 by tanith
"Oi, Slayer! Wait!"
Throwing her head back and mouthing "Why me?" at the heavens, Buffy slowed to a halt. "What is it, Spike? I don't remember asking you to follow me."
"Good thing for you, too," Spike said, sidling up beside her. "'Cause if you had, I'd feel obligated to be on the other side of town by now."
"Oh, that's mature."
He shrugged and lit a cigarette.
Buffy let out a histrionic sigh and started walking again, resigned to his company. "Fine. What do you want, Spike?"
"I wanna talk you out of being such a stupid git."
She whirled around at him. "Excuse me?"
"It's just that you're being awfully selfish about this, pet. It's unlike you."
"Why do you even care? I'd think you'd be heading the rah-rah squad for these guys."
"Nah. Pom poms aren't my style," Spike said, internally fuming that she still refused to see him outside of her narrow little "vamp box." She was sodding blind, she was. "Besides," he said. "A slave ring? That's nasty business. Anyone using mojo to get a meal deserves to get his ass kicked, or we're going to have to deal with more graduates from the Dracula School of Ponces."
Buffy turned and smiled at him, devilishly. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't mind control part of Drusilla's MO?"
Great. She just had to go and bring that up. She was making this talking-some-sense-into-her business bloody difficult.
"Er...right," he said. "Well, I never liked it when she did that."
This was a lie. It had been quite amusing at times. A smile rose to his lips as he remembered one particular incident...Grinning, he filed it away as a good story he could tell the Nibblet later - once he'd performed a severe edit, of course.
"Look, that's not the point," Spike said, yanking his mind back on track. "Point is, innocent people are dying, and it's your job to be all hero-y and stop it from happening. Having to pretend not to loath me for a couple of days seems like a small price to pay to preserve, er..."
"...Truth, Justice, and the American way?" Buffy finished, her voice absolutely drenched with sarcasm. "Could you be any more transparent with your motivations?"
Spike put on his best innocent face. In truth, he was far from miserable at the idea of having to go undercover with her. Course, he'd been watching too many X-Files reruns lately...
"All I know is that you have this..." he tried to say the next words with sincerity and failed miserably. "'...Sacred duty,' right? You're the Slayer. Scourge of all things nasty and evil. Protector of whelps the world over. And you're just going to turn your back on that 'cause being around me too long gets your panties in a twist?"
She glared at him, her mouth opening to shoot him a retort.
He beat her to it. "'You're a pig, Spike.' Yes, I know." He sighed. "Just what will it take to convince you? Lemme guess: one of your little Scooby pals to get kidnapped." He took one last drag on his cigarette and then flicked it away, shaking his head."Nah. Too obvious."
****
Tara had her face screwed up in a manner that suggested she was sucking on something unpleasant.
"Honey, it's okay," Willow said sweetly. "You're allowed to yawn."
Looking relieved, Tara opened her mouth and let it out. "Sorry," she said. "I know I shouldn't be this tired."
"You want to go home and get some rest?" her lover asked. "I think we're only going to be researching for...oh, the next four hours."
Tara's smile was interrupted by yet another yawn. "I guess I'd better."
"Don't feel guilty," Anya said, not taking her eyes off the large, dusty book spread out in front of her. "We don't really need you."
Suddenly, the ex-demon could feel every pair of eyes in the room boring into her. "For researching," she quickly amended.
"Anya, remember what we discussed?" Xander said. "About thinking before you speak?"
"It's okay," Tara said, gathering her books. "I know what she meant." She gave Willow a chaste kiss on the lips and headed out the door. "Don't be too long, okay?"
Willow smiled at her and then went back to her book.
Tara tugged her sweater closer to her body as she stepped out into the night. It always came as a shock how cold sunny California could get at night. It's a desert climate, Tara reflected. Not that knowing this made it any more comfortable. She began to walk faster, eager to get inside and under the warmth of her comforter.
She was less than a hundred yards from her dorm when a huge vampire stepped into her path.
Tara's first reaction was, naturally, one of fear. The vamp towered over her, his lips curled into an ugly grin. "Why, what's a pretty little thing like you doing out at an ungodly hour such as this?"
Run, Tara thought, frantically. Run! Only...she didn't want to run.
"I was waiting for you, of course," Tara said, in a voice that, were Willow to ever hear it, would probably cause her to drop into a dead faint, and then wake up screaming that her girlfriend had been possessed by Faith.
"I'm right here, baby," the vamp said.
Tara flashed him a seductive grin and jumped him, sending books scattering across Sunnydale's darkened streets.
Part 3 by VicNoir
Spike felt as badly as a quasi-evil, desperately horny creature of the night could reasonably be expected to feel about Tara's kidnapping. But not badly enough to take no satisfaction from the position he now found himself in: lord and master of the object of his desire. Even if it was all pretend, he couldn't help but get a tremendous thrill from the idea of showing off in front of all the other vamps, for within the confines of this little under cover operation, he got to play the biggest bad of all: the vamp who'd captured the Slayer.
"Oi! Slave-girl! Get your arse out here an lemme check the dye-job!"
Scowling, Buffy emerged from the bathroom of the motel room rubbing her newly darkened hair with a towel. Spike grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled the towel from her hands. Pushing the hair back from her face, he smiled down out her.
"Not bad, Slayer. Gives you that mysterious, exotic look I used to fancy."
Buffy yanked the towel back and brushed past him in annoyance to gaze at her reflection in the mirror across the room. "Used to fancy? What, you're not into brunettes anymore?"
"Er...well...yeah, I like a dark-haired bird well enough." He searched his pockets for cigarettes and came up empty. "You hungry?"
"Mmmmm...yeah. There's a McDonald's across the street." She looked pointedly at the vampire and then at the door.
"Right. Why don't I toddle over and bring you back somethin'? I could use the air." In fact, he was planning on shoplifting some smokes from the 7-Eleven next door. "What's your poison?"
"A Big Mac. Fries. Coke. Super-size it. And a Happy Meal with nuggets. And an apple pie."
"Anybody ever mention you eat like a dock-worker?"
"Go to hell, Spike."
"Not that I object, mind you. In fact, I'd prefer a bit more meat on my slave than what's currently on you. Maybe by the time we get back to Sunnyhell, you'll have a curve or two" His words were cut off by her left to his jaw. He rubbed it absently, continuing to grin at her. "Now, pet, remember what the Watcher said. No bruisin' your master, might blow our cover."
"Yeah, well, I doubt that Giles would blame me at this point. Why do you always have to be so...so..."
"Irresistible? Desirable? Sexy?"
"Disgusting. Revolting. Irritating."
"Oh, Slayer, you know you like me. If you didn't, I wouldn't be able to provoke you so easily."
He had a point. One that she was barely able to acknowledge to herself, and intended never to acknowledge to him.
"OUT! NOW! And I don't care if you ever come back!"
"Oh, but you do. And I will." He watched as she stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. Chuckling, he left the room in search of grease, salt and sugar for his beloved Slayer, and nicotine for himself.
****
When Buffy pulled over to get gas the following evening, she poked at the sleeping vampire covered in blankets in the back seat of the rental car.
"Wake up, Spike. Sun's going down. Your turn to drive."
He sat up and yawned, rubbing at his eye with the heel of his hand. Then he fished a bag of blood from the cooler on the floor of the car and slid into game-face, piercing the plastic and sucking the bag dry in under ten seconds. She watched him, fascinated.
"Wow. You've really got that down to an art-form."
"Yeah, well, it's amazing how proficient you can get when you've no bleedin' choice."
"You ready to drive?"
"Yeah. Just lemme wake up a bit first. Where're you goin'?"
"Gotta use the bathroom. Be right back."
He glanced out the window and saw the last sliver of a blood-red sun slide behind the desert horizon. Stepping out of the car, he watched her disappear into the gas station restroom. He slouched against the fender and lit a cigarette. The hot, dry breeze blew his nearly-white hair into curls around his face and threw a light spray of sand against the black leather of his duster.
A black Cadillac pulled up to the other side of the pumps. Spike immediately noticed that the windows had been painted out with heavy black grease. He stubbed out the remainder of his cigarette and pulled himself up to his full height to face the large, dark creature that emerged from the driver's seat.
"Evenin', mate. Nice night, inn'it?"
The driver of the other car flashed a glance in his direction, and recognition lit in his eyes. "Hey, you're...aren't you...?"
"We've met, mate? 'Cause I can't rightly say I recall you."
The other vampire flashed his game-face briefly, and Spike countered with his most charming smile. "Ah, yes, Barrett, right? Peter Barrett? You were on the guest-list for Dru's little get-together a few years back"
"Yeah, sorry I couldn't make that. Although I heard it was interrupted by a visit from the Slayer."
"Yeah, well, that was just a bit of unplanned entertainment. So, what are you doin' in these parts?" He saw Buffy emerge from the restroom over the other vampire's shoulder.
"I'm on my way to Vegas. Got a little...business opportunity waiting for me there." Barrett ran his credit card through the slot in the pump and reached for the nozzle. "Hey, didn't I hear something about you? Something about the military fixing it so you can't hunt or kill anymore?"
"Yeah, that was a bit of a problem for a few months. But I solved it."
"So you're all better now?"
"Right as rain, mate. Why do you ask?" Buffy had slowed her approach and was looking hard at Spike. He waggled one eyebrow at her in an unspoken message.
"Thought you might be interested in this business opportunity I mentioned." Barrett replaced the nozzle and screwed the gas cap back into place. "It's an auction, actually."
"Yeah? What kind of auction?"
Barrett smiled. "The kind you'd like. Slaves. Human slaves. We've got hundreds of 'em, all ripe and ready and willing to serve. Sound like something you'd" Barrett never got to finish his sales-pitch, because he had become a pile of dust that mixed with the sand drifts around the gas pumps and blew away into the night. Buffy tucked her stake back into the inner pocket of her jacket and grinned at Spike. "Vegas, huh?"
He returned her smile with enthusiasm. "Tell me, Slayer, have I ever shown you my Elvis impersonation?"
Part 4 by Love's Bitch (Kristin)
Spike took another long drag from his cigarette, thinking over the plan. They weren't far from Vegas now, and he was anxious to get there and start acting like a master again. His body tingled with anticipation of being the Big Bad once more, and for all to see. True it was only temporary, and all an act, but he'd always reveled in being the center of attention, and this little meat market would be no exception. The blonde vampire had definite plans for the little play he and Buffy had to put on for the others. He flicked the butt out the window and was about to light another smoke when he heard a low moan from the backseat, where Buffy currently slept. He let a smirk light his features as he listened to her change positions and reached again for his pack of smokes.
This time, Buffy giggled, and Spike forgot all about his nicotine. "Spiiiiike...." In utter shock, he forgot what he was doing and the car swerved ever so slightly to the right. Grabbing the wheel, trying to keep the car from crashing, as well as trying not to wake up the newly-brunette slayer in the back seat, Spike decided to pull the car over for a moment, to enjoy the show.
Once the car was parked, he turned in his seat and went into vamp face so he could see her in the dark. She lay on her side, facing him, arms wrapped tight around herself, and a light smile playing on her sleeping features. She did nothing for a moment, and Spike felt a stab of tenderness for her, so he reached out to brush an errant strand of hair from her face. When his hand was about two inches from her cheek, she started, turning her head into his hand, and giggling again. "Yes..." she moaned and suddenly Spike found it difficult to sit still.
A thousand ideas flew through his brain, most of which included jumping in the back seat with her, some of which actually included continuing to drive. Instead, he sat there, watching in silence, unsure of what to do. She made his mind up for him with her next outburst.
"Yes, Spike..." her perfect mouth spoke his name like it was poetry, "Yes, master..."
He didn't waste a moment's time after that remark, and started to climb over the seat. He shed his duster and his demon visage on the way over, and steadied himself over the slayer's sleeping form. He closed his eyes, leaning in for a kiss when he felt something sharp and distinctly wooden pressing into his chest. He opened his eyes to see a very amused Slayer looking back at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"My turn to drive already?" she asked, smiling.
He was caught. Anything he said right then would either result in stakage or at least bruising, so he decided he may as well have fun. "You just looked so sweet and innocent, love. I thought you needed a little...debauchery." He winked at her, and she pushed him roughly off of her onto the floor of the back seat.
As she climbed into the front seat, she said offhandedly, "I've been awake since you stopped the car. Just keep in mind that the only reason you aren't dust is because they have Tara."
With a satisfied half-smirk on his face, Spike laid back on the seat, closed his eyes, and replayed the feeling of his Slayer's body laying under him, not fighting him. It wasn't until ten minutes later, when they were back on the road that he realized she'd moaned his name BEFORE he stopped the car.
Oh this was going to be too much fun.
****
At just past two a.m. they pulled onto the Vegas strip, searching for a hotel. Buffy was in awe of all the bright colors and flashing lights, but Spike had seen it all before, and was currently telling one of his less than amusing "Me and Dru" stories. Buffy just rolled her eyes.
"So anyway, Me and Dru take the third dancing girl, right? Right off the bloody stage, but everyone is so drunk, no one notices. Champagne for everyone, they had. So, Elvis is down to two girls on stage with him-"
"Elvis? Why in God's name is Elvis in this story?"
"Well, pet, if you'd been listening," Spike began, but stopped when he saw the marquis of the Spiked Collar Hotel and Nightclub. Smiling at the name, he pointed the sign out to Buffy.
She read aloud, "'Host of the annual Creatures of the Night 'Date' Auction'." She laughed, "Well, they don't do a great job of hiding themselves, do they?"
"Looks like this is our stop. Pull in, lets get ourselves a room."
Spike couldn't hide his amusement at Buffy's disgusted reaction. She'd forgotten they could only have one room, he knew. And he also knew that being alone with him in a hotel made her nervous. And he couldn't wait to take advantage of that.
After they parked, as they were approaching the front door to the hotel section, Spike grabbed her hand, dropped another devilish wink, and said, "Now remember pet, I like you to smile when you say, 'Yes, Master Spike.'"
Chapters 5- 8
Ring Around the Buffy
A Round Robin Series by Multiple Authors. No longer in progress.
Parts 5-8
The Story: Buffy and Spike go cross country and under cover to infiltrate a vampire human slavery ring.
Rating: PG - NC17.
Disclaimer: None of us own any of this, Joss is King.
Spoilers: General Season 5.
Written By (in order of appearance): Annamarie, tanith, VicNoir, Kristin (aka Love's Bitch), Blaque Kat, Spikelicious, Tracy (AKA Jericho TGF), Jessa, NautiBitz, Raven, Saber ShadowKitten
Other authors scheduled (but never wrote): Trish, Pandora, Caitlin (AKA Spikes_Luv), Suaine, Angel Eternal, Python Chick (AKA Spike's Childe), Taulmaril, Patti, and Maggie.
Part 5 by Blaque Kat: Buffy and the Holy Grail
That night, while in the hotel, sleeping side by side, a slayer and a vampire lay in the darkness. Though both were as far as possible without falling off the queen sized bed, they could feel the other as though they were right next to each other. And while they slept, the slayer dreamed.
:: Dream Sequence ::
Buffy was wandering the outdoors. She had no idea where she was. Suddenly, she heard what sounded like a horse behind her. Turning, she saw a man dressed in a white robe with a crown on. Behind him followed a drably dressed man with a huge pack on his back. In his hands were two sides of a coconut shell. As he walked, he banged them together, and the first man would sort of gallop. They spotted her, and came to a stop in front of her.
"I am King Arthur," the first man started, "and this is Patsy. We are searching for the Holy Grail. You haven't happened to see it, have you?"
Staring back and forth between the two, she grinned when she realized what was going on. "King Arthur, huh?"
He nodded.
"And the Holy Grail."
He gave another nod.
"Have you seen the killer bunny yet?"
"The - the killer bunny?"
"I'll take that as a no. Anyway, I haven't seen your grail."
With that, the two men trotted off, leaving Buffy in the background. She started walking around and found herself in a new environment. She was dressed in a white gown, and surrounded with other young women. In the crowd she spotted Willow, Tara, and Anya. The door opened and in came Xander, followed by someone who looked exactly like Anya. Buffy heard the last of what the Anya look a like was saying.
"...I've been very bad. I need a punishment and...a good spanking."
All the girls around started talking at once. "Yes, spank me!" "Then me!" "I need a spanking!"
She was shocked to see Willow and Tara joining in with them. Suddenly, two more men came crashing through another door, a door to the outside. They pulled Xander out, at the same time talking about some grail. After the noise had died down, Buffy hurried out the door. She immediately saw that she was dressed differently. Among her was a group of men, and in front of them was a bridge. She heard a voice say,
"What's....your favorite color?"
Then a new voice.
"Blue."
She saw someone walking across the bridge to the other side.
"What's....your name?"
"Sir Lancelot."
"What's....your favorite color?"
"Blue, no I mean green!"
She watched as the the victim was flung into the air. The next person up, she recognized as King Arthur.
"How many times does a sparrow beat it's wings in a minute?" The voice from the bridge asked.
"An African or a sparrow?" The king asked.
"Well, I don't know."
Buffy saw an old man with a dirty looking beard fly through the air. She moved with the group and they began to cross the bridge. When they got to the other side, she was in a totally new location. Walking into a classroom filled with boys of all ages, she saw Spike in the front of the room teaching the class about sex. She moved as if someone else was controlling her as she covered the length of the room and stopped at the edge of the bed that had fallen from the wall. She proceeded to take her clothes off as did Spike. Getting onto the bed, she 'watched' in horror as Spike got on top of her and, while still talking to the class, entered her. He was still taking questions from the class when the room began to blur. She was watching the very beginning of a Monty Python episode, with the cartoon. At the end, when the foot came down and crushed the scene, Buffy woke up with a gasp.
And kicked Spike in the shin.
Part 6 By Spikelicious
"OW! What the bloody hell was that for?!"
Spike scrambled out of bed, rubbing his shin. "Well, I wasn't really sleeping anymore anyway. We might as well get over to that Spiked Collar joint and check things out. Get the lay of the land, so to speak."
Buffy eyed Spike and the bed they'd been sharing. "I thought vampires didn't sleep at night."
Spike shrugged, putting his boots back on. "Well, you were, what was I gonna do? Sit in the chair and watch you sleep? Plus, there's nothing on the telly." He didn't mention that she'd looked pretty tired and he didn't want to disturb her, although it appeared as though she'd been woken by a pretty 'disturbing' dream.
"Uh huh. So, Buffy see, Buffy do?" Buffy got up and put on her own boots, pulling her brown hair back into a ponytail.
"I wish."
She shot him a look as he grinned sexily at her. "Stop that. Let's go," she added brusquely, not looking back as she left the room.
"Now, now, pet. Who's the master?"
"Bater," Buffy grumbled as she let herself into the passenger side of the DeSoto.
****
As Spike and Buffy entered the lobby of The Spiked Collar, they were greeted by a minion handing out numbers.
"Here. You're late."
Spike's eyebrows flew into his hairline as he forced himself not to glance at Buffy. They'd come in to scope the place out ahead of time, not walk into the lion's den.
"What's the number for?"
The minion sighed. "New to this, are you? Figures. See, the auction isn't until tomorrow. Right now we're just showing the 'wares', let the buyers get a look at what they might want to buy. Haven't you ever been to an auction before?"
Spike scoffed, covering his relief that the bidding hadn't started yet. "Oi, mate. I've been too busy causing murder and mayhem to go antique hunting."
He heard Buffy snort behind him, but when he glanced at her, her face was an impassive mask. 'Dammit, Buffy, don't blow our cover,' he mentally commanded. 'You're supposed to be in some kind of thrall!'
Taking the number, he grabbed Buffy's arm and pulled her over to the nearest booth and pointed at the chair. "Sit," he ordered gruffly, wondering if she was picturing punching him in the nose yet.
****
Back in Sunnydale, Willow paced the floor of her dorm room, muttering angrily to herself.
"Sure. *My* girlfriend gets kidnapped, and I'm safe at home...well, okay, not so safe since home is a Hellmouth, but still. Buffy and Spike get to go undercover and I get to stay here and be the welcome wagon after *they've* rescued Tara."
Biting her lip, she paused. "Boy, just 'cause I'm not Willow the Vampire Slayer or Willow the Bloody, doesn't mean I should...I mean, hello, faced a hellgod to get her back already! Powerful witch, here!"
Suddenly, Buffy's words from earlier replayed in her mind. *"...but how am I supposed to go undercover? There's no way I can pass as a vampire, too much heartbeat, not enough fang-age."*
After a few moments, a thought began to form, and she tried talking herself out of it before it became a plan, but it was too late. And, she reasoned, it was a good plan. At least better than having a heated conversation with herself in the middle of the day alone in her room.
Dashing to the closet, she fell to her knees and began rummaging through piles of clothes until she pulled out the pair of black leather pants and matching halter. She was glad she'd kept them, after all.
Putting the clothes on, she then rifled through her and Tara's makeup stash until she found a scarlet nail polish and proceeded to paint her nails, then ran the matching lipstick over her lips and puckered appreciatively in the mirror. Putting on her spikiest-heeled boots, she faced the mirror again.
Calming her excited nerves, she began weaving the spell she and Tara had discovered a few months earlier. Every time they'd tried to sneak up on vampires it was to no avail, since the vamps could hear their heartbeats and smell their distinctly human scent. So she and Tara had come up with a way to mask their heartbeats, smell, and basically make themselves look dead. So far, it had worked every time.
Now, she enhanced the glamour and added a longevity spell, so that the illusion wouldn't lapse if she lost her concentration. Adding the final touches to the glamour, Willow faced herself in the mirror.
Licking her lips, she smiled seductively. "It'll do." She let the glamour fall away, certain that she would have no problem pulling it back on within seconds.
Grabbing her keys, which included the spare key to her mom's Tercel which she would be 'borrowing' in about ten minutes, she strode out of her room, full of purpose and intent on joining the cavalry.
****
Spike was angrily informing the vampire standing next to him that there would be no 'sampling the wares'.
"No, mate, you CANNOT bloody lick her!"
"The other guys let me taste their slaves." The vampire pouted sullenly, eyeing Buffy like she was...well, she was a meal, at least for all outward appearances.
Forcing her eyes to the ground, she held still and kept quiet. Spike wondered if the vampire was simply too stupid to feel the waves of rage emanating from her powerful yet small form, and he cast nervous looks her way, shaking his head almost imperceptibly.
"Look, mate, shove off. Wait for the auction like all the others."
As the vampire moved away grumbling, Spike suddenly felt the slight, cool weight of an arm drape around his shoulder.
Turning to face the new and apparently friendly vampire which had come up behind the last, he froze, only able to dart a glance at Buffy, whose mouth had dropped in utter shock.
Vamp Willow's golden eyes glinted ferally as she lightly trailed a vermillion-tipped fingernail down Spike's face, dipping into the well-defined hollow of his cheek.
Glancing at Buffy, Willow smiled. "Ooh, Spike! You got us a puppy!"
Part 7 by Jericho_TGF
Spike's mind was spinning. Talk about plans going awry. He had no idea what Will was up to, but the witch was about to get them all served up on a platter. Glancing at his 'slave' out of the corner of his eye, a slave that was looking torn between bursting into tears or bursting into bloody trails of vamp slayage, he knew that if he didn't take control of the situation soon, their house of cards was going to come crashing down on all of them.
And that was just too much debris to think about dealing with right now.
Not that he actually had any idea what to do. He was too spun by Vamp Witch to do much more than gape at her.
Willow, doing her best 'hey I'm a big ho' Faith imitation, wrapped herself around Spike's body, one hand stroking his back, going down to his ass until she chickened out and switched direction. No need to give too good a show, after all...and, hey...still Spike.
Grinning sexily, she tossed a flickering, purposely dismissive glance at her stunned friend. "So, Spike. Do I get to make the puppy's creamy skin pretty with color? Black, maybe...and blue. Oh! Let's not forget red!" She spoke loudly and boldly, for the benefit of several of the male vampires against the wall, not more than fifteen feet away, that were watching her like they wanted to eat her alive.
And not in that 'got blood' way.
"Buffy, can you hear me?" Willow reached out her mind, trying to connect to her obviously distraught friend. From the looks of it, Buffy was too confused...or angry...to keep to her role. Not a good. "Buffy?"
Nothing. Not even an eye twitch. Buffy couldn't hear her. Damn. Not that Willow had done much mind speech since the night with Glory, but it worked with Tara - and she'd already proved it would work on...
"Spike, can you hear me?"
His head jolted a bit in surprise. This new Will...new and improved looking Will...was still something he was trying to get used to. Not to mention, when his mind finally got with the program, it struck him just how...delicious Willow looked. Who would have thought? But the fact remained; normal conversation in this place would get them deader than dust. Time to use all those brain cells of his.
"Yeah, pet," he said, trying to put just enough double meaning in his words as he could without being too obvious, cursing for maybe the first time his kind and their hearing. "Pretty colors. I'll let you take the puppy for a walk in a minute, don't worry. Where have you been, luv? I've been waiting for you. And can I say, you look especially evil tonight."
"Glamour spell with a longevity boost. Keeps the vamps from knowing I'm not. A vamp, that is."
Willow saw a vampire coming up behind Spike and yanked the blonde vampire's very surprised face down and kissed him soundly, dragging her fingers through his hair before raking her nails down the sensitive flesh at the back of his neck.
He hissed in surprise and pain...oddly aroused surprise and pain. If it wasn't for...well...the situation...the fact that it wasn't the woman he loved doing that to him...and just about everything else that had anything to do with this caper, he would have been enjoying himself.
"Oh...sorry. It's just...audience. Trying not to blow our cover. I can't reach Buffy's mind. She can't hear me."
"Thank you, baby," she said out loud. "You're so good to me." Yellow eyes glowed feral and hot as Willow preened a bit under his compliments...compliments she knew were meant more as a pumping for information than anything else. She sent the double meaning right back at him. And knowing Buffy was listening; Willow hoped she was picking up on it, too. "You know I wouldn't miss this, lover. Not with so much on the line. I was hungry, though. Stopped at a nice French restaurant. You know how I love French food. The cook was delicious."
Everything in Buffy was screaming for release. It didn't matter too terribly much that the room was full of the walking non-decomposing types. She was really ready to stick a forest of sharp, pointy things into a few chests. Willow was SO not supposed to be here...and hello? What's with the fangs and forehead look? Not to mention, she's suddenly sporting that totally two years ago Spice Girl thing. 'Evil Spice', that is.
Now Buffy was supposed to just stand here while Spike and Willow have a little inconsequential discussion? Not happening.
Spike couldn't say he wasn't enjoying the obvious discomfort of the Slayer next to him. It was kind of nice, actually, knowing that there was nothing she could do to take control of the situation and seeing how much that was driving her crazy. But it was playing with fire. He had no intention of getting burned...or staked...when this was all over.
Spinning the witch in his arms, he lifted her slight body off the floor slightly, despite her surprised, "Hey!" in his head.
Sure, Willow could turn him into a stink beetle or what all, but he had to get them all out of here and fast. For speed's sake, he buried his head into the now eye-level hollow of the Red's neck. For appearance sake, he brought his game face forward and growled a low, deep growl of pure sex. For his own sake, he trailed a cold, wet tongue from her collarbone to her ear. For all their sake's he whispered in her ear.
"We're gettin' outta here. Now. Follow my lead."
Buffy watched in stunned disbelief as Spike set the laughing...yes, laughing...Willow back down on her feet. He pressed his body along her length, gripping her narrow waist and leaning into her, kissing her with possession and dominance. She knew the minute he slid his tongue into her best friend's mouth. Willow's hand clenched into the fabric of his shirt. In surprise and disgust, she was hoping...
It had to be surprise and disgust. Right? Willow was Willow. Gay and all...and, well...Willow.
Buffy's stomach twisted painfully, knotting and churning as she watched the display. It was disgusting. Revolting. Spike was such a pig. He was loving this, she could tell. And she hated him for it. Wanted to stake him right then and there for even thinking of going this far in this parody of a plan.
Um...why was Willow still kissing him?
This wasn't going to work, Buffy thought. This was in no way going to fool anyone. I mean, they didn't even look all that convincing, really. It wicked obvious. Willow was too stiff. She wasn't into it. Buffy could tell. Spike was going to get them all killed.
Um...why was Willow still kissing him? And...um...why was she wrapping her arms around his neck?
Looking around, Buffy saw seven vampires studying the lip-locked couple intently, evil leers on their faces. See, she thought. They know. They know it's a ruse and we're all going to end up dead.
Okay...hello? Could you knock of with the kissing now?
Spike pulled back from Willow, who was a little breathless but still in character. He was proud of her. She was doing well. So far. Now, that the show was over for those seven vampires that had been listening in to everything they had been saying, they could retreat without drawing undo attention.
"Come on, luv," he said, nipping playfully at Willow's bare shoulder. "Let's go check out the springs on that mattress in our room. And yes, pet. You get to bring the puppy." Spike turned his head to talk to Buffy and almost dusted on the spot at the hot fury blazing in her eyes.
If he didn't know better, she looked almost...jealous. Well, well, he thought with a smirk, isn't this interesting. But not the time.
"You," he called out to her, as if she was not the most important person on the planet to him. "Come with us. Mommy and Daddy are gonna have a little fun. And you're the main attraction."
Oh, bloody hell, he thought. She was going to dust him for real the minute they were alone. That is not a happy Slayer face. Great.
Sighing internally, wrapping an arm around Willow for the watching eyes, the two 'vampires' breezed out of the room, a livid slave followed, simmering, behind them.
Part 8 - By Jessa
I'm really beginning to hate vampires, Buffy thought, glaring at the back of Willow and Spike's heads as the two pawed each other while walking through the lobby. The logical part of Buffy's mind knew it was just for appearances but that didn't make her any less angry.
"Stupid. . .bloody. . .vampires. . ." She muttered.
Did I just say 'bloody'? Buffy groaned. This was not shaping up to be a very good day.
The moment the threesome was out of sight Willow and Spike burst into laughter. Since when does Spike laugh?
"That was fun, pet, we should do it again some time." Spike told Willow, leering at her. Willow grinned and faked a faint like the mere thought was too much. Spike laughed again. Growing, Buffy turned and stomped off down the hallway like she was out for blood.
The other two looked after her in surprise. Spike started to follow but Willow held him back.
"I'll go."
Spike was about to protest but finally shrugged impartially.
"Whatever. I'm going back to the room. Are you staying with us?"
"No. I got my own room. I'll keep a low profile though."
"Alright, but be careful." Willow blushed slightly at his concern, the confidence from her glamour spell wearing off. Without another word she went down the hallway in search of where Buffy had stormed off to.
She found her only minutes later in a conference room beating the living hell out of three vampires. The Slayer's face was flushed as she pounded on her unsuspecting victims relentlessly. When the fight was finished and all that was left was three piles of dust Willow made her presence known.
"So what's bothering you?" She asked and Buffy whipped around in surprise.
"I'm not jealous!" She protested.
"Okay. . ." Willow looked at her, puzzled. "I never said you were." Buffy looked flustered and brushed nonexistent dust off her pants.
"Well good, because I'm not." The Slayer hopped up so she was sitting on the large table in the center of the room. "I guess I'm just pissed at having to play the role of the kicked puppy."
Willow nodded. She'd accept that explanation. . . for now.
"What are you even doing here Will?"
The redhead tried to look innocent. In the leather and red lipstick she didn't succeed.
"My girlfriend's been kidnapped, where else would I be?"
Buffy protested. "It's not safe for you to be here."
Willow frowned at the slight insult. "Look, I used a spell so the other vamps can't tell I'm human. As far as they're concerned I'm just another one of them."
"But what if something goes wrong?"
"It won't!" Buffy's over protectiveness was comforting but she got the feeling something a lot bigger was eating at the Slayer. "Now why don't you tell me what's really bugging you?"
Buffy hesitated. "I just. . . I don't think you should be hanging all over Spike. It's dangerous."
Well, Buffy conceded. It's the half truth.
"I'll be fine. If anything happens Spike will handle it." Willow told her.
"Like he always does." She said but it didn't come out nearly as sarcastic as she'd planned. "Sometimes I think you've all forgotten that he's tried to kill us like a dozen times."
Willow smiled. "True. But he's not very good at it."
Buffy tried to look at her in irritation but her lips kept twitching and finally she started laughing. A full minute passed before she was able to compose herself.
"You know sometimes I think he couldn't find his ass with both hands tied behind his back."
Willow snorted to keep from laughing. "Buffy don't be mean!" She admonished. "Besides, Don't you think it would be fun to watch him try?" She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
"Willow!" Buffy balked. "Did you forget we're here to save your girlfriend?" Her laughter faded as she watched as a look of sadness crossed the redhead's face. And she caved.
"Okay. Fine! You can stay. It's not like you haven't proved you can take care of yourself."
Willow squealed. "Yippee!" She reached out and hugged Buffy quickly."Now I'm going to let you go so you can go beat on Spike. Just try not to stake him, okay? I really want to get my girlfriend back sometime before she's traded off to a vampire named Rufus."
Buffy grinned. "I promise. See ya Will!" She called as she started towards the door. "Oh, and I love the outfit." She laughed as she left the room, planning all sorts of ways in which she'd maim Spike.
But by the time she reached the hotel room she had worn off most of her anger. Damn it! And I was really looking forward to some ass kicking.
She slid the card through the slot on the door and watched as it turned green. Turning the handle she flung open the door.
"Honey I'm h -. . . naked?" Buffy stopped in shock and the plastic card fell to the ground.
Spike. . . naked. . .there was a wet and naked Spike. . . in front of her. . . technically he was wearing a towel but everyone knows how little hotel towels cover. It was safe to say this was more of Spike than she had ever thought she'd see. The words Spike and naked just didn't go together. Except Buffy couldn't help but notice that they actually went together rather well.
"Slayer?" Spike asked, smirking at her dazed state.
"You - you're naked." She looked at him accusingly.
He looked down, as if in surprise. "Well most people do tend to remove clothing when they have showers." He walked forward to where Buffy still stood in the open doorway. "So where did my little slave run off to?"
Buffy managed to tear her eyes away from his chest, which was still wet from the shower, in order to glare at him. "I wanted some time alone, so screw me." One of Spike's eyebrow's raised and Buffy gulped. "Shoot me! I meant shoot me!"
The other eyebrow raised, the one with the scar, as if to say 'Sure you did.'
"Sorry Slayer." Spike said. "I already tried that once and I like to learn from my mistakes." He reached out and brushed away a hair from her face. "But I will take you up on your first offer."
Buffy pulled away from his hand. "In your dreams."
"Frequently." Spike leered at her and Buffy blushed. "We do have to keep up appearances, luv."
Something flashed in Buffy's eyes. "I think you and Willow were doing a good enough job of that."
"Is that jealousy I hear in your tone, Slayer?" Spike smirked.
"Only if you're as tone deaf as Angel." She replied. His arrogance gave was giving her the uncontrollable urge to wipe that smirk off his face, where it was looking entirely too sexy for anyone's good.
Spike laughed. "You know insulting my poofter Sire isn't exactly rating high on the 'Ways of Making Spike Shut Up' scale."
"Bite me, Spike."
He leaned in towards her. "Gladly. You know with all these innuendoes you've got going it's no wonder I keep getting the wrong impression."
"What?" Buffy grinned. "Like that I want you?" Spike eyed her as she brushed past him as she moved through the doorway.
"For example," he replied, watching her hand as it trailed down his bare chest. The Slayer was definitely up to something but Spike couldn't think too clearly with her hot hand on his skin.
Buffy smirked, turning to face him dead on from the inside of the doorway. She leaned in slightly and whispered.
"What makes you think that you're wrong?"
Spike's jaw dropped and Buffy used his shock to her advantage, pushing him out into the hallway and grabbing the towel from his waist while she was it. Then she slammed the door, locking Spike on the outside quicker than he could say 'Bloody Hell'. But not so quick that she didn't get a peek at the merchandise first.
After all. I'm only human.
A Round Robin Series by Multiple Authors. No longer in progress.
Parts 5-8
The Story: Buffy and Spike go cross country and under cover to infiltrate a vampire human slavery ring.
Rating: PG - NC17.
Disclaimer: None of us own any of this, Joss is King.
Spoilers: General Season 5.
Written By (in order of appearance): Annamarie, tanith, VicNoir, Kristin (aka Love's Bitch), Blaque Kat, Spikelicious, Tracy (AKA Jericho TGF), Jessa, NautiBitz, Raven, Saber ShadowKitten
Other authors scheduled (but never wrote): Trish, Pandora, Caitlin (AKA Spikes_Luv), Suaine, Angel Eternal, Python Chick (AKA Spike's Childe), Taulmaril, Patti, and Maggie.
Part 5 by Blaque Kat: Buffy and the Holy Grail
That night, while in the hotel, sleeping side by side, a slayer and a vampire lay in the darkness. Though both were as far as possible without falling off the queen sized bed, they could feel the other as though they were right next to each other. And while they slept, the slayer dreamed.
:: Dream Sequence ::
Buffy was wandering the outdoors. She had no idea where she was. Suddenly, she heard what sounded like a horse behind her. Turning, she saw a man dressed in a white robe with a crown on. Behind him followed a drably dressed man with a huge pack on his back. In his hands were two sides of a coconut shell. As he walked, he banged them together, and the first man would sort of gallop. They spotted her, and came to a stop in front of her.
"I am King Arthur," the first man started, "and this is Patsy. We are searching for the Holy Grail. You haven't happened to see it, have you?"
Staring back and forth between the two, she grinned when she realized what was going on. "King Arthur, huh?"
He nodded.
"And the Holy Grail."
He gave another nod.
"Have you seen the killer bunny yet?"
"The - the killer bunny?"
"I'll take that as a no. Anyway, I haven't seen your grail."
With that, the two men trotted off, leaving Buffy in the background. She started walking around and found herself in a new environment. She was dressed in a white gown, and surrounded with other young women. In the crowd she spotted Willow, Tara, and Anya. The door opened and in came Xander, followed by someone who looked exactly like Anya. Buffy heard the last of what the Anya look a like was saying.
"...I've been very bad. I need a punishment and...a good spanking."
All the girls around started talking at once. "Yes, spank me!" "Then me!" "I need a spanking!"
She was shocked to see Willow and Tara joining in with them. Suddenly, two more men came crashing through another door, a door to the outside. They pulled Xander out, at the same time talking about some grail. After the noise had died down, Buffy hurried out the door. She immediately saw that she was dressed differently. Among her was a group of men, and in front of them was a bridge. She heard a voice say,
"What's....your favorite color?"
Then a new voice.
"Blue."
She saw someone walking across the bridge to the other side.
"What's....your name?"
"Sir Lancelot."
"What's....your favorite color?"
"Blue, no I mean green!"
She watched as the the victim was flung into the air. The next person up, she recognized as King Arthur.
"How many times does a sparrow beat it's wings in a minute?" The voice from the bridge asked.
"An African or a sparrow?" The king asked.
"Well, I don't know."
Buffy saw an old man with a dirty looking beard fly through the air. She moved with the group and they began to cross the bridge. When they got to the other side, she was in a totally new location. Walking into a classroom filled with boys of all ages, she saw Spike in the front of the room teaching the class about sex. She moved as if someone else was controlling her as she covered the length of the room and stopped at the edge of the bed that had fallen from the wall. She proceeded to take her clothes off as did Spike. Getting onto the bed, she 'watched' in horror as Spike got on top of her and, while still talking to the class, entered her. He was still taking questions from the class when the room began to blur. She was watching the very beginning of a Monty Python episode, with the cartoon. At the end, when the foot came down and crushed the scene, Buffy woke up with a gasp.
And kicked Spike in the shin.
Part 6 By Spikelicious
"OW! What the bloody hell was that for?!"
Spike scrambled out of bed, rubbing his shin. "Well, I wasn't really sleeping anymore anyway. We might as well get over to that Spiked Collar joint and check things out. Get the lay of the land, so to speak."
Buffy eyed Spike and the bed they'd been sharing. "I thought vampires didn't sleep at night."
Spike shrugged, putting his boots back on. "Well, you were, what was I gonna do? Sit in the chair and watch you sleep? Plus, there's nothing on the telly." He didn't mention that she'd looked pretty tired and he didn't want to disturb her, although it appeared as though she'd been woken by a pretty 'disturbing' dream.
"Uh huh. So, Buffy see, Buffy do?" Buffy got up and put on her own boots, pulling her brown hair back into a ponytail.
"I wish."
She shot him a look as he grinned sexily at her. "Stop that. Let's go," she added brusquely, not looking back as she left the room.
"Now, now, pet. Who's the master?"
"Bater," Buffy grumbled as she let herself into the passenger side of the DeSoto.
****
As Spike and Buffy entered the lobby of The Spiked Collar, they were greeted by a minion handing out numbers.
"Here. You're late."
Spike's eyebrows flew into his hairline as he forced himself not to glance at Buffy. They'd come in to scope the place out ahead of time, not walk into the lion's den.
"What's the number for?"
The minion sighed. "New to this, are you? Figures. See, the auction isn't until tomorrow. Right now we're just showing the 'wares', let the buyers get a look at what they might want to buy. Haven't you ever been to an auction before?"
Spike scoffed, covering his relief that the bidding hadn't started yet. "Oi, mate. I've been too busy causing murder and mayhem to go antique hunting."
He heard Buffy snort behind him, but when he glanced at her, her face was an impassive mask. 'Dammit, Buffy, don't blow our cover,' he mentally commanded. 'You're supposed to be in some kind of thrall!'
Taking the number, he grabbed Buffy's arm and pulled her over to the nearest booth and pointed at the chair. "Sit," he ordered gruffly, wondering if she was picturing punching him in the nose yet.
****
Back in Sunnydale, Willow paced the floor of her dorm room, muttering angrily to herself.
"Sure. *My* girlfriend gets kidnapped, and I'm safe at home...well, okay, not so safe since home is a Hellmouth, but still. Buffy and Spike get to go undercover and I get to stay here and be the welcome wagon after *they've* rescued Tara."
Biting her lip, she paused. "Boy, just 'cause I'm not Willow the Vampire Slayer or Willow the Bloody, doesn't mean I should...I mean, hello, faced a hellgod to get her back already! Powerful witch, here!"
Suddenly, Buffy's words from earlier replayed in her mind. *"...but how am I supposed to go undercover? There's no way I can pass as a vampire, too much heartbeat, not enough fang-age."*
After a few moments, a thought began to form, and she tried talking herself out of it before it became a plan, but it was too late. And, she reasoned, it was a good plan. At least better than having a heated conversation with herself in the middle of the day alone in her room.
Dashing to the closet, she fell to her knees and began rummaging through piles of clothes until she pulled out the pair of black leather pants and matching halter. She was glad she'd kept them, after all.
Putting the clothes on, she then rifled through her and Tara's makeup stash until she found a scarlet nail polish and proceeded to paint her nails, then ran the matching lipstick over her lips and puckered appreciatively in the mirror. Putting on her spikiest-heeled boots, she faced the mirror again.
Calming her excited nerves, she began weaving the spell she and Tara had discovered a few months earlier. Every time they'd tried to sneak up on vampires it was to no avail, since the vamps could hear their heartbeats and smell their distinctly human scent. So she and Tara had come up with a way to mask their heartbeats, smell, and basically make themselves look dead. So far, it had worked every time.
Now, she enhanced the glamour and added a longevity spell, so that the illusion wouldn't lapse if she lost her concentration. Adding the final touches to the glamour, Willow faced herself in the mirror.
Licking her lips, she smiled seductively. "It'll do." She let the glamour fall away, certain that she would have no problem pulling it back on within seconds.
Grabbing her keys, which included the spare key to her mom's Tercel which she would be 'borrowing' in about ten minutes, she strode out of her room, full of purpose and intent on joining the cavalry.
****
Spike was angrily informing the vampire standing next to him that there would be no 'sampling the wares'.
"No, mate, you CANNOT bloody lick her!"
"The other guys let me taste their slaves." The vampire pouted sullenly, eyeing Buffy like she was...well, she was a meal, at least for all outward appearances.
Forcing her eyes to the ground, she held still and kept quiet. Spike wondered if the vampire was simply too stupid to feel the waves of rage emanating from her powerful yet small form, and he cast nervous looks her way, shaking his head almost imperceptibly.
"Look, mate, shove off. Wait for the auction like all the others."
As the vampire moved away grumbling, Spike suddenly felt the slight, cool weight of an arm drape around his shoulder.
Turning to face the new and apparently friendly vampire which had come up behind the last, he froze, only able to dart a glance at Buffy, whose mouth had dropped in utter shock.
Vamp Willow's golden eyes glinted ferally as she lightly trailed a vermillion-tipped fingernail down Spike's face, dipping into the well-defined hollow of his cheek.
Glancing at Buffy, Willow smiled. "Ooh, Spike! You got us a puppy!"
Part 7 by Jericho_TGF
Spike's mind was spinning. Talk about plans going awry. He had no idea what Will was up to, but the witch was about to get them all served up on a platter. Glancing at his 'slave' out of the corner of his eye, a slave that was looking torn between bursting into tears or bursting into bloody trails of vamp slayage, he knew that if he didn't take control of the situation soon, their house of cards was going to come crashing down on all of them.
And that was just too much debris to think about dealing with right now.
Not that he actually had any idea what to do. He was too spun by Vamp Witch to do much more than gape at her.
Willow, doing her best 'hey I'm a big ho' Faith imitation, wrapped herself around Spike's body, one hand stroking his back, going down to his ass until she chickened out and switched direction. No need to give too good a show, after all...and, hey...still Spike.
Grinning sexily, she tossed a flickering, purposely dismissive glance at her stunned friend. "So, Spike. Do I get to make the puppy's creamy skin pretty with color? Black, maybe...and blue. Oh! Let's not forget red!" She spoke loudly and boldly, for the benefit of several of the male vampires against the wall, not more than fifteen feet away, that were watching her like they wanted to eat her alive.
And not in that 'got blood' way.
"Buffy, can you hear me?" Willow reached out her mind, trying to connect to her obviously distraught friend. From the looks of it, Buffy was too confused...or angry...to keep to her role. Not a good. "Buffy?"
Nothing. Not even an eye twitch. Buffy couldn't hear her. Damn. Not that Willow had done much mind speech since the night with Glory, but it worked with Tara - and she'd already proved it would work on...
"Spike, can you hear me?"
His head jolted a bit in surprise. This new Will...new and improved looking Will...was still something he was trying to get used to. Not to mention, when his mind finally got with the program, it struck him just how...delicious Willow looked. Who would have thought? But the fact remained; normal conversation in this place would get them deader than dust. Time to use all those brain cells of his.
"Yeah, pet," he said, trying to put just enough double meaning in his words as he could without being too obvious, cursing for maybe the first time his kind and their hearing. "Pretty colors. I'll let you take the puppy for a walk in a minute, don't worry. Where have you been, luv? I've been waiting for you. And can I say, you look especially evil tonight."
"Glamour spell with a longevity boost. Keeps the vamps from knowing I'm not. A vamp, that is."
Willow saw a vampire coming up behind Spike and yanked the blonde vampire's very surprised face down and kissed him soundly, dragging her fingers through his hair before raking her nails down the sensitive flesh at the back of his neck.
He hissed in surprise and pain...oddly aroused surprise and pain. If it wasn't for...well...the situation...the fact that it wasn't the woman he loved doing that to him...and just about everything else that had anything to do with this caper, he would have been enjoying himself.
"Oh...sorry. It's just...audience. Trying not to blow our cover. I can't reach Buffy's mind. She can't hear me."
"Thank you, baby," she said out loud. "You're so good to me." Yellow eyes glowed feral and hot as Willow preened a bit under his compliments...compliments she knew were meant more as a pumping for information than anything else. She sent the double meaning right back at him. And knowing Buffy was listening; Willow hoped she was picking up on it, too. "You know I wouldn't miss this, lover. Not with so much on the line. I was hungry, though. Stopped at a nice French restaurant. You know how I love French food. The cook was delicious."
Everything in Buffy was screaming for release. It didn't matter too terribly much that the room was full of the walking non-decomposing types. She was really ready to stick a forest of sharp, pointy things into a few chests. Willow was SO not supposed to be here...and hello? What's with the fangs and forehead look? Not to mention, she's suddenly sporting that totally two years ago Spice Girl thing. 'Evil Spice', that is.
Now Buffy was supposed to just stand here while Spike and Willow have a little inconsequential discussion? Not happening.
Spike couldn't say he wasn't enjoying the obvious discomfort of the Slayer next to him. It was kind of nice, actually, knowing that there was nothing she could do to take control of the situation and seeing how much that was driving her crazy. But it was playing with fire. He had no intention of getting burned...or staked...when this was all over.
Spinning the witch in his arms, he lifted her slight body off the floor slightly, despite her surprised, "Hey!" in his head.
Sure, Willow could turn him into a stink beetle or what all, but he had to get them all out of here and fast. For speed's sake, he buried his head into the now eye-level hollow of the Red's neck. For appearance sake, he brought his game face forward and growled a low, deep growl of pure sex. For his own sake, he trailed a cold, wet tongue from her collarbone to her ear. For all their sake's he whispered in her ear.
"We're gettin' outta here. Now. Follow my lead."
Buffy watched in stunned disbelief as Spike set the laughing...yes, laughing...Willow back down on her feet. He pressed his body along her length, gripping her narrow waist and leaning into her, kissing her with possession and dominance. She knew the minute he slid his tongue into her best friend's mouth. Willow's hand clenched into the fabric of his shirt. In surprise and disgust, she was hoping...
It had to be surprise and disgust. Right? Willow was Willow. Gay and all...and, well...Willow.
Buffy's stomach twisted painfully, knotting and churning as she watched the display. It was disgusting. Revolting. Spike was such a pig. He was loving this, she could tell. And she hated him for it. Wanted to stake him right then and there for even thinking of going this far in this parody of a plan.
Um...why was Willow still kissing him?
This wasn't going to work, Buffy thought. This was in no way going to fool anyone. I mean, they didn't even look all that convincing, really. It wicked obvious. Willow was too stiff. She wasn't into it. Buffy could tell. Spike was going to get them all killed.
Um...why was Willow still kissing him? And...um...why was she wrapping her arms around his neck?
Looking around, Buffy saw seven vampires studying the lip-locked couple intently, evil leers on their faces. See, she thought. They know. They know it's a ruse and we're all going to end up dead.
Okay...hello? Could you knock of with the kissing now?
Spike pulled back from Willow, who was a little breathless but still in character. He was proud of her. She was doing well. So far. Now, that the show was over for those seven vampires that had been listening in to everything they had been saying, they could retreat without drawing undo attention.
"Come on, luv," he said, nipping playfully at Willow's bare shoulder. "Let's go check out the springs on that mattress in our room. And yes, pet. You get to bring the puppy." Spike turned his head to talk to Buffy and almost dusted on the spot at the hot fury blazing in her eyes.
If he didn't know better, she looked almost...jealous. Well, well, he thought with a smirk, isn't this interesting. But not the time.
"You," he called out to her, as if she was not the most important person on the planet to him. "Come with us. Mommy and Daddy are gonna have a little fun. And you're the main attraction."
Oh, bloody hell, he thought. She was going to dust him for real the minute they were alone. That is not a happy Slayer face. Great.
Sighing internally, wrapping an arm around Willow for the watching eyes, the two 'vampires' breezed out of the room, a livid slave followed, simmering, behind them.
Part 8 - By Jessa
I'm really beginning to hate vampires, Buffy thought, glaring at the back of Willow and Spike's heads as the two pawed each other while walking through the lobby. The logical part of Buffy's mind knew it was just for appearances but that didn't make her any less angry.
"Stupid. . .bloody. . .vampires. . ." She muttered.
Did I just say 'bloody'? Buffy groaned. This was not shaping up to be a very good day.
The moment the threesome was out of sight Willow and Spike burst into laughter. Since when does Spike laugh?
"That was fun, pet, we should do it again some time." Spike told Willow, leering at her. Willow grinned and faked a faint like the mere thought was too much. Spike laughed again. Growing, Buffy turned and stomped off down the hallway like she was out for blood.
The other two looked after her in surprise. Spike started to follow but Willow held him back.
"I'll go."
Spike was about to protest but finally shrugged impartially.
"Whatever. I'm going back to the room. Are you staying with us?"
"No. I got my own room. I'll keep a low profile though."
"Alright, but be careful." Willow blushed slightly at his concern, the confidence from her glamour spell wearing off. Without another word she went down the hallway in search of where Buffy had stormed off to.
She found her only minutes later in a conference room beating the living hell out of three vampires. The Slayer's face was flushed as she pounded on her unsuspecting victims relentlessly. When the fight was finished and all that was left was three piles of dust Willow made her presence known.
"So what's bothering you?" She asked and Buffy whipped around in surprise.
"I'm not jealous!" She protested.
"Okay. . ." Willow looked at her, puzzled. "I never said you were." Buffy looked flustered and brushed nonexistent dust off her pants.
"Well good, because I'm not." The Slayer hopped up so she was sitting on the large table in the center of the room. "I guess I'm just pissed at having to play the role of the kicked puppy."
Willow nodded. She'd accept that explanation. . . for now.
"What are you even doing here Will?"
The redhead tried to look innocent. In the leather and red lipstick she didn't succeed.
"My girlfriend's been kidnapped, where else would I be?"
Buffy protested. "It's not safe for you to be here."
Willow frowned at the slight insult. "Look, I used a spell so the other vamps can't tell I'm human. As far as they're concerned I'm just another one of them."
"But what if something goes wrong?"
"It won't!" Buffy's over protectiveness was comforting but she got the feeling something a lot bigger was eating at the Slayer. "Now why don't you tell me what's really bugging you?"
Buffy hesitated. "I just. . . I don't think you should be hanging all over Spike. It's dangerous."
Well, Buffy conceded. It's the half truth.
"I'll be fine. If anything happens Spike will handle it." Willow told her.
"Like he always does." She said but it didn't come out nearly as sarcastic as she'd planned. "Sometimes I think you've all forgotten that he's tried to kill us like a dozen times."
Willow smiled. "True. But he's not very good at it."
Buffy tried to look at her in irritation but her lips kept twitching and finally she started laughing. A full minute passed before she was able to compose herself.
"You know sometimes I think he couldn't find his ass with both hands tied behind his back."
Willow snorted to keep from laughing. "Buffy don't be mean!" She admonished. "Besides, Don't you think it would be fun to watch him try?" She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
"Willow!" Buffy balked. "Did you forget we're here to save your girlfriend?" Her laughter faded as she watched as a look of sadness crossed the redhead's face. And she caved.
"Okay. Fine! You can stay. It's not like you haven't proved you can take care of yourself."
Willow squealed. "Yippee!" She reached out and hugged Buffy quickly."Now I'm going to let you go so you can go beat on Spike. Just try not to stake him, okay? I really want to get my girlfriend back sometime before she's traded off to a vampire named Rufus."
Buffy grinned. "I promise. See ya Will!" She called as she started towards the door. "Oh, and I love the outfit." She laughed as she left the room, planning all sorts of ways in which she'd maim Spike.
But by the time she reached the hotel room she had worn off most of her anger. Damn it! And I was really looking forward to some ass kicking.
She slid the card through the slot on the door and watched as it turned green. Turning the handle she flung open the door.
"Honey I'm h -. . . naked?" Buffy stopped in shock and the plastic card fell to the ground.
Spike. . . naked. . .there was a wet and naked Spike. . . in front of her. . . technically he was wearing a towel but everyone knows how little hotel towels cover. It was safe to say this was more of Spike than she had ever thought she'd see. The words Spike and naked just didn't go together. Except Buffy couldn't help but notice that they actually went together rather well.
"Slayer?" Spike asked, smirking at her dazed state.
"You - you're naked." She looked at him accusingly.
He looked down, as if in surprise. "Well most people do tend to remove clothing when they have showers." He walked forward to where Buffy still stood in the open doorway. "So where did my little slave run off to?"
Buffy managed to tear her eyes away from his chest, which was still wet from the shower, in order to glare at him. "I wanted some time alone, so screw me." One of Spike's eyebrow's raised and Buffy gulped. "Shoot me! I meant shoot me!"
The other eyebrow raised, the one with the scar, as if to say 'Sure you did.'
"Sorry Slayer." Spike said. "I already tried that once and I like to learn from my mistakes." He reached out and brushed away a hair from her face. "But I will take you up on your first offer."
Buffy pulled away from his hand. "In your dreams."
"Frequently." Spike leered at her and Buffy blushed. "We do have to keep up appearances, luv."
Something flashed in Buffy's eyes. "I think you and Willow were doing a good enough job of that."
"Is that jealousy I hear in your tone, Slayer?" Spike smirked.
"Only if you're as tone deaf as Angel." She replied. His arrogance gave was giving her the uncontrollable urge to wipe that smirk off his face, where it was looking entirely too sexy for anyone's good.
Spike laughed. "You know insulting my poofter Sire isn't exactly rating high on the 'Ways of Making Spike Shut Up' scale."
"Bite me, Spike."
He leaned in towards her. "Gladly. You know with all these innuendoes you've got going it's no wonder I keep getting the wrong impression."
"What?" Buffy grinned. "Like that I want you?" Spike eyed her as she brushed past him as she moved through the doorway.
"For example," he replied, watching her hand as it trailed down his bare chest. The Slayer was definitely up to something but Spike couldn't think too clearly with her hot hand on his skin.
Buffy smirked, turning to face him dead on from the inside of the doorway. She leaned in slightly and whispered.
"What makes you think that you're wrong?"
Spike's jaw dropped and Buffy used his shock to her advantage, pushing him out into the hallway and grabbing the towel from his waist while she was it. Then she slammed the door, locking Spike on the outside quicker than he could say 'Bloody Hell'. But not so quick that she didn't get a peek at the merchandise first.
After all. I'm only human.
Chapter 9: Naked
Naked
Author: NautiBitz
Note: This is my contribution to a round robin series called "Ring Around the Buffy", started by Annamarie of OGD, that unfortunately died in the water a few chapters after mine. I put it here because I think it can stand on its own. Check it out from the beginning here. See bottom of page for two different continuations (official and unofficial), and check out the FAQ if you're hot to see this continue.
Summary: Somewhere between mid-Season 5 and 6, in an effort to save an abducted Tara, Buffy and Spike road-tripped undercover to infiltrate a vampire-run human slavery ring in Las Vegas. So far: They've checked in to the hotel where the slave auctions will be held; slept in the same bed once (no nookie); Buffy reluctantly acted the part of Spike's slave; a worried Willow showed up uninvited, decked out in Evil!Willow gear and a vampiric glamour; Spike was taken with Will's new look and the newly-brunette Buffy got SO NOT jealous; she then found a towel-clad Spike in their shared hotel room, and in mid-argument/flirtation, ripped off his towel and shoved him outside the door. Whew! What happens now?
Timeline: I don't think we ever established a definite timeline, but it's before Buffy and Spike became an item on the show.
Pairing: Spike/Buffy
Rating: NC-17, biting
Disclaimer: You know the drill. 20th Century Fox Corp owns everyone but me.
Distribution: Outside links only, please.
Feedback: I'm a--SLAAAAVE...4 revUes! (See what I did there? Ahem.)
Completed: September 2001.
Buffy was laughing blithely, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the hotel room door.
"Buffy," she heard Spike reason calmly from the hallway. "Let me in."
"Sorry," she replied breezily. "I don't allow naked men in my room."
"Come on now," he ground out. "Appearances, remember? What'll I tell the vampire guest who'll inevitably walk by any bleedin' minute now?" His last words turned harsh, angry.
"You can tell them that you just 'appear' to be naked."
"Dammit, Slay--ve!"
She burst into laughter, punctuated by an 'aaah'. "Good cover."
He banged against the door. "Let me in!"
"Na-ah. This is way too much fun."
"Fun." Spike exhaled, and tried a different tack. "Tell me something, Buffy."
She was silent for a moment. "What?"
He smiled. "Did you know you always wanted me this much, or is it your seething jealousy that brought it out?"
The door flew open. "I am NOT jeal--!"
He jumped through the entryway and overtook her against the closet. "Gotcha."
She shoved him off. "Get your naked parts away from me."
"My 'parts' wouldn't be naked if you hadn't undressed me," he pointed out, leaning against the opposite closet. Cocking a brow, he asked, "So what's this about you wanting me?"
"I only said that to trick you," she huffed.
"Into ogling my naughty bits?"
"I didn't...'ogle'." She walked towards the bed. "And I don't want you."
"Yeah, whatever. Look," he said as he picked up his towel and rewrapped it around his waist, "as much as I love a good mind-fuck every now and then, you and I have work to do."
"When will you get it through your head that there IS no 'you and'--" Buffy spun around. "Huh?"
"Work. Preparation? We have no real plan to speak of and a damsel in distress we have to save."
Buffy straightened indignantly. "I have a plan."
"Yeah? Wanna let me in on it?"
"Okay." She tilted her chin. "We find Tara, then we dust them all."
"All three hundred of them."
"Uh-huh," she said, facade crumbling.
He scoffed. "Great plan."
"Okay, so what's your brilliant plan?"
"First things first. We have to prepare you."
"Prepare me?"
"Yes. Slave custom, appearance, etiquette, all that. Should've done it before but we didn't get the chance."
"You're enjoying this entirely too much."
"Maybe I am. But that's not the point." He approached her. "This is serious business here. Those vampires aren't playing around. If we screw up, we're in deep trouble. You, me, and your pretty witch pals."
'Pretty'? He'd never used that word before to describe...Not jealous. "I know."
"Good. So let's put everything aside and concentrate on the work at hand."
Buffy sighed. "Fine. What do we have to do?"
"Well first, I have to bite you. Then I have to teach you the right way to walk, talk, sit--"
"Woah. Woah, woah woah woah woah!" She put her hands up. "You have to bite me?"
He nodded soberly. "Yeah."
"And why exactly, other than the fact that this is probably the premise of your wettest dream?"
He smiled. "Actually..." He shook his head. "Hear me out, Slayer. There are two types of slaves here. The kind you feed on, and the kind you fuck. Which one would you rather be?"
She blinked at him, eyes lowering to his towel and quickly darting back up to his face. "Neither?"
"We're putting you on display tomorrow, and you have to prove your worth. Either you let me bite you in front of them, or you get down on your knees and--"
A speeding fist connected with his nose.
"Ow," Spike said, gingerly touching her target.
"Sorry, reflex," she explained curtly.
"Yeah, well, you get the point? Obviously you don't want--" he stepped back. "The other thing."
"I get it. But I still don't see why you have to bite me tonight."
"The only reason we made it through the night is you've got those scars," he pointed at her neck.
She covered her throat, suddenly shamed by her three vampire-inflicted scars. While every other mark on her body healed and disappeared, those stayed, like badges of dishonor.
"You need fresh ones, or they'll wonder what I've been doing with you all night."
"You can say you're creative," she offered. "You bit me somewhere else."
He smiled, the idea of biting her elsewhere distracting him momentarily. "That's a nice touch, but it has to be the neck. It's a mark of ownership," he explained.
She scrutinized him suspiciously. "How do you know so much about slaves anyway?"
"Let's not get off the subject, pet." He stepped closer to her.
"Well this is an absurd subject! You can't bite me, even if I let you."
"Can't I?" he asked, eyes fixed on her neck.
He was too close. She was getting nervous. "Not unless there's something important you haven't told me that'll make me have to stake you."
"Oh, the chip. If I don't intend to hurt you--"
"Newsflash, Einstein. Biting hurts."
His hand trailed down her shoulder, feather light. "Hurts bad?" He trailed it back up. "Or hurts good?"
She shivered unintentionally, remembering Dracula. And...Angel. Okay, so she wasn't really thinking about the pain when they... "Bad?"
He chuckled, looping her hair behind her ear and whispering into it, "Once more, with conviction."
This wasn't good. "Spike," she began, much more breathlessly than she'd intended it.
"Yeah?" he asked huskily, running a finger down her neck.
She pushed him back, hand on his chest. "Just one bite. And not too deep or too long, or I beat you to a bloody pulp. Got it?"
He nodded, smiling, stuck on the words 'deep' and 'long.' "Where do you want to do it?"
Buffy looked around awkwardly. "Um, right here, I guess."
"You sure? Maybe we should be--"
"Spike."
"Alright, have it your way. Now," he instructed, feeling a change come over his features. "Clear your mind. Don't think about the pain."
"Uh huh," she said, shutting her eyes tightly.
He pulled back. "Relax, Buffy."
"I am relaxed!"
"Love, your heartbeat could outrun the buggery Grand Prix."
She exhaled a laugh.
He smiled at her. "That's better."
"Will you just do it before I change my mind? Your demon face is way ugly."
Spike pulled her close and tight against his body. "S'that mean you like my human face?"
Before she could retort, he'd pierced her throat with his teeth.
She cried out, mostly in surprise. No pain, no pain, no pain, she told herself. And amazingly, there was none.
He maneuvered her roughly against the wall, convulsing and shaking her body along with his.
Her blood was exquisite. Pure. Hot. Powerful.
Delicious.
With a heady moan, she kneaded his shoulder blades, nails biting into his skin. Feeling something very hard and very large push against her thigh, Buffy found herself moving to accomodate it, to accomodate him, between her legs.
Rumbling like a jungle cat, he ground into her clothed heat as she bucked forward to meet him.
In the back of his mind, Spike recognized that this was the premise of his wettest dreams. But the demon in him was focused on the Slayer blood coating his esophagus. He held her tighter and sucked harder as he pressed his body fiercely against hers.
She whimpered, sliding her fingers down his back and resting them on the hem of his towel, which unceremoniously fell to the floor. When she wrapped her legs around him, he knew. He knew she wanted it too.
The man in Spike overpowered the monster and his fangs retracted. "Buffy," he gasped, overcome with lust.
Buffy tried to think clearly. He'd stopped sucking, they were still there against the wall, he was naked--and she was about thirty seconds away from tearing off all of her clothes. Now he was sneaking a hand under her shirt to cup her breast while raining kisses all over her face.
When he went for her mouth, she shot her head back.
He tried to read her expression.
"No," she said emphatically, and pushed him hard enough to propel him backwards onto the bed.
Spike propped himself up on his elbows and blinked at her.
Breathing heavily, Buffy touched her wounded neck. Her lower lip trembling, she stared with wide eyes at her blood-stained fingers, then at Spike. She straightened her shirt. "This isn't gonna happen."
"Buffy--"
"No," she said again, rushing over to her suitcase to grab her toiletry bag.
"I didn't mean to--"
"Stop. Just--don't." She didn't look at him. "We'll talk shop tomorrow," she called in an unsteady voice before heading to the bathroom and locking the door behind her.
Spike flopped his head back onto the bed. "Great. Bloody just great."
***
"And now, the next item for your viewing pleasure," the emcee barked jovially, "Master Spike's latest conquest."
A burst of applause rang through the hall.
Buffy peered out from her place in the wings, and looked at Spike standing beside her. He'd put on his vamp face, but she could tell he was scared. This wasn't good. If he was scared...
Before she could finish that thought, he'd tugged her by her collar out to center stage.
An interested murmur rippled through the crowd, and Buffy squinted into the lights to scan the audience. Vampires seated at tables, drinking blood martinis, leering at her.
"Spin around for the nice people, pet," Spike said. "Let 'em get a good look."
She obeyed and turned slowly, feeling naked and exposed.
"She's too skinny!" A man called out.
"Not nearly enough to snack on!" An amused woman yelled.
"Master Spike?" the emcee asked. "Why don't you give us a sample of what she's good for?"
"She's only good for one thing," Spike said smugly, and pushed Buffy onto her knees. His voice dropped to a lower register. "But she's very good at it."
Before her eyes, he unzipped his leather pants and bared his thick cock.
She gulped. This wasn't the plan... "Spike?" she asked in a tiny voice.
"Go on," Spike ordered. "Don't keep your audience waiting, girl."
In what felt like slow motion, she took it into her hands, and pressed her lips against its velvety tip. Opening her mouth, she dutifully brought him in.
"That's a good girl," he encouraged.
Spike wrapped his hand behind her head, prodding her on as she expertly bobbed against his pelvis.
"As you can see," she heard the emcee say, "she may not be suckable, but she really knows how to suck!"
The audience laughed and applauded wildly.
"And now for the best part," Spike said, and jumped on top of her.
Suddenly, they were naked and in their hotel room, fucking feverishly as he sucked on her neck.
I'm dreaming, Buffy realized, and woke up with a start.
No, dream good. She closed her eyes, trying to will herself back into the dream.
No luck.
As she realized where she was, Buffy suddenly felt very guilty for wanting to continue a sex dream with Spike. Speaking of Spike...
Thankfully not beside her, but close, and most likely awake. The television was on, providing the only light and sound in the room. Except for that little gasp...
She turned quietly in bed to see him slouched in the armchair beside the bed, eyes shut tight. His hand jerked in staccato rhythm under the sheet that just barely covered his hips.
Her eyes grew huge. He isn't. Buffy clapped a hand over her mouth. He is!
She knew she shouldn't be watching. But it was so intriguing: the look of ecstasy on his face, the wild abandon in his movement...
He accelerated his pace, faster, faster, faster, until the sheet fell away. "Buffy," he choked, and opened his eyes.
She saw surprise and a hint of embarrassment flash in his eyes before a more familiar expression took over. And now she couldn't pretend she hadn't been watching, that she wasn't still watching as he continued to pump, as his come shot recklessly into the air and settled on his chest and abdomen.
He kept his eyes on hers until the last drop was expelled.
Buffy was mesmerized.
"Like what you see?" he finally asked in the raspy, predatory voice she'd only heard once before, in her dream.
"No," she croaked hoarsely, then cleared her throat. "I was just..."
Spike sat up. "Fascinated? Turned on? Wet?"
As well as she could, Buffy restored her trademark indignance. "Hardly."
"Nice try," he said with a smug smile. "I can smell you from here."
Buffy tried to think of a good retort, but all she could come up with was, "Well, good for you."
"No argument there," he said with a satisfied sigh, folding his arms behind his head. "Now, then. Are you gonna sit there with your mouth open all night or are you gonna make yourself useful?"
Buffy scoffed. "Excuse me? Could you be any more presumptuous?"
"Actually, I was gonna ask you to throw me the tissues and my smokes."
"Oh."
"But I like your idea better."
"No, no..." Buffy reached over to the bedside table for his requests, then flung them his way.
He popped a cigarette into his mouth while he cleaned himself. Buffy wrinkled her nose at the display, but didn't turn away.
"So, Buffy," he said, flipping his lighter open and tossing the wadded tissues into the trashcan. "Now that we're on such intimate terms, why don't you tell me about the dream you just had."
She felt her cheeks redden. "Huh?"
"Your dream. You were moaning my name," he said with unabashed pride. "Again."
She hadn't called his name...had she? "You're lying."
"I'm not. Why do you think this happened?" He motioned to his crotch.
"Uh, because you're a pig?"
He chuckled, undeterred. "The dream," he reminded her.
She shrugged. "I don't remember it."
"A likely story."
"I don't!" She sat up. "Something about a Grail, and oh--killer bunnies," she prattled, grabbing inspiration from her previous dream.
Exhaling a stream of smoke, he looked her in the eye. "Yeah, Monty Python always gets me hot, too."
She shook her head and rolled over. "Good night, Spike."
"Well," he said, wrapping the sheet around his hips as he rose and moved towards the bed. "Scooch over then."
"No way!"
"This is my bed too, you know."
"Not while I'm in it."
"Look," he pleaded, "I'm--"
"Naked?"
"No..."
"Spent?"
He couldn't disagree with that. "Right. And now I need my beauty sleep."
She snorted, rolling to the opposite side of the bed. "If you think it'll help."
As he stretched out beside her he said, "Now, no more moaning my name or I'll be forced to make your dream come true."
"You'll die trying," she warned with a yawn.
"Be worth it," he said simply.
Drifting off to sleep, she said, "Yeah."
Spike lifted his brow, and smiled wide.
***
Buffy's eyes fluttered open. Must be morning, she thought regretfully. So comfy.
Sighing, she nuzzled against the firm pillow she was cuddling. The one that was also...cuddling her?
Not a pillow. Spike.
She assessed her position. One hand grasping his shoulder, one bare thigh draped possessively over his loins. His very naked loins.
His strong, muscled arms held her tight.
Buffy closed her eyes. A very persuasive part of her didn't want to move. Ever.
As long as he didn't wake up for a while, she could stay...
A hand ran tenderly through her hair. Damn, Buffy thought.
Lifting her head, she noticed the small pool of saliva she'd left on his chest. She wiped the corner of her mouth and looked up, redfaced.
"Morning, Sunshine," he said with a smile. "Cozy?"
Without warning, she shoved him out of bed and onto the floor.
"What?!"
"You did this!" she accused.
"I did not! I woke up just now, same as you, with you all wrapped around me like a bleedin' Hot Pocket!"
"I--" she started, flustered. "Well it's the way I slept with Riley every night. Obviously I forgot who you were."
Quietly, he asked, "Then why didn't you move the second you realized it was me?"
She stared at him, and his perfect, chiseled body. He had a point there.
"Because," she started, wracking her brain for a good explanation.
The phone rang. Right. The wake up call. Buffy exhaled in relief.
He smirked. "Saved by the bell," he said as he stood and brought the receiver to his ear. "For now."
***
"This feels kinda weird," a frowning Willow said as she held up the studded dog collar intended for Buffy's neck. "Dressing you up to put you on sale?"
"Tell me about it," Buffy said.
"Feels fine to me," Spike offered, nibbling on a cracker from the room service food cart.
Buffy snapped, "Who asked you?"
He sent her a cocky grin. "Who asked you, what?"
"Who asked you...Asshole?"
He approached her and said with seductive menace, "Better watch your mouth, missy."
"Or what? You'll scold me?"
He idly rubbed his chest. "No. I'll tell Red here about the Drool Incident."
In the stunned silence that followed, Willow's curiosity got the best of her. "The...'Drool Incident'?"
Glaring at Spike, Buffy punched him, hard.
"Goddamn it!" he shouted, wiping away noseblood. "The auction's in a sodding hour! Slayer bruises aren't exactly the height of fashion at these things!"
"You can say I gave them to you, Lover," Willow drawled sexily. "Sometimes I just can't control myself."
Spike brightened and commended, "Good thinking Will."
Buffy crossed her arms and repeated, "'Lover?'"
"Sorry," Willow deferred. "Just...gettin' into character."
"Could you not be that character until we've got an audience, please?" Buffy implored.
Spike leaned in to Willow conspiratorially. "Makes her jealous." Willow nodded, smiling.
"I am NOT jealous!" Buffy screeched, stomping a foot.
She was met with two skeptical expressions.
"I'm not! God, do you have any idea how humiliating this is for me? I've been practicing being Little Slave Girl all afternoon. To Spike!" Buffy explained, pointing at the offending vampire, then at Willow. "And you. I am not accustomed to this! I've never spent so much time on my knees in my life!"
Spike grinned. "But--"
"DON'T even go there," Buffy interrupted quickly.
He shrugged and walked back to the food tray.
"Asshole," Buffy said under her breath before pulling her hair back to let Willow attach the collar.
"I heard that," Spike said, stabbing a cube of cheese with a toothpick.
"Buffy, just remember that we're doing this for--What's that?" Willow asked, pointing at her friend's neck.
"What's what?" Buffy touched her neck. "Oh, that. It's nothing. Spike had to bite me. For, you know, authentic slave appearance." She added, "Or so he says."
"He bit you?" She turned to Spike. "You bit her?"
"Necessary evil," Spike explained coolly.
"But--you can't--the, the chip--he can't!"
"He can. Under certain uh, controlled types of circumstances," Buffy stammered.
Spike shot her a devious grin.
"But--ouch?" Willow pointed out.
"Who, me or her?" Spike asked casually.
"Her! You! Both of you!"
"Actually," Spike began, "it was fun for everyone."
"Spike!" Buffy hissed.
"Buffy?" Willow asked searchingly. "Fun?"
"Let's just drop it, okay?" Buffy begged.
Willow looked back and forth between the two, then shook it off. "Okay." She clasped the collar shut.
"So, am I slavey?"
Willow took in Buffy's new ensemble--tight red leather and chains, revealing in just the right places, but enough cover for a few strategically placed stakes. "Definitely slavey."
Spike strode around her. "Not bad. Not bad at all."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "As long as it pleases you, Master."
He stopped, arousal evident on his face. "Oh, it does."
"Stop leering at me," Buffy said, shifting uncomfortably. "What?"
"Just thinkin' about how much I can get for you."
Laughing, he ducked a swift right jab.
***
Buffy obediently followed Spike through the convention hall. Of course, she had no choice, as her collar was attached to the leash he pulled with great zeal.
Identification was now pinned to her front. She was #46. The slaves around her numbered up to the three hundred mark. She shuddered to think of how many innocent people had been captured, how many had died at the hands of these psychopaths.
"Bored now," Willow announced, running a finger down Buffy's cheek, the one they'd darkened with bruise-colored makeup. "Think I'll go find someone to drink."
Buffy knew this meant she was going to scan the room for Tara.
"Alright, love," Spike said distractedly. "Just be back in time for the show."
Buffy followed Spike's steely gaze to a dark, oversized vampire surrounded by several cronies and slaves. His commanding presence made it clear that he was a highly regarded Master.
Spike bristled. When he tugged on Buffy's leash twice--the code for Trouble with a capital T--she mentally checked off the placement of each one of her hidden stakes.
"Come," he said to Buffy. "I want you to meet someone."
He sauntered towards the vampire with Buffy in tow. The crowd parted. "Anton," he said.
Anton eyed Spike warily. "William the Bloody."
"Been a while," Spike said.
"Sixty, seventy years?"
Spike nodded once. "Give or take."
Anton's lips curled into an ugly grin. "I trust you've all heard of Spike," he said to his entourage. They nodded and murmured in salutation, some in obeisance. "Last I heard, you were in Sunnydale, aligned with...the Slayer."
Spike laughed and replied confidently, "Yeah. That's what she thought, too. Got the little chit right where I wanted her."
"Is that so?" Anton asked, voicing Buffy's first distrustful reaction.
He's just acting, Buffy reminded herself. This was not the time to start questioning Spike's motives. Surreptitiously, she studied Anton. Expensive suit. Butt-ugly face. When she caught his eye, she immediately looked down.
"She's a pretty one," Anton said, nodding at Buffy. "A little thin..."
"Tasty, though," Spike said. "And compliant. She was a real bitch to capture, resistant as hell."
"Ah, but that makes the conquest so much sweeter." Anton accosted Buffy and held her chin to roll her head from side to side. She avoided his eyes, but her anger was difficult to contain. "Yes, she has a fire, I can tell. You haven't broken her completely."
Oh, I'll break you completely, Buffy thought bitterly.
Anton said, "Not the rarest of creatures, but I like her."
"Well, she's on the block next hour," Spike said. Buffy bared her neck at his prompting.
"And you're willing to give her up?" Anton asked, trailing a finger down Buffy's new bitemarks.
Spike shrugged. "Time for new blood."
"Yes, I also like to keep my stable...fresh. Perhaps we could arrange a trade. Have you seen my latest aquisition? Nice and plump." He snapped his fingers, and a young, rubinesque girl appeared at his side. Buffy saw her outfit first. Black latex strips that left nothing to the imagination, full breasts entirely exposed. She looked up to attach a face to that scandalous ensemble.
Buffy's eyes widened, and the name fell out before she could stop it. "Tara?"
The corner of Tara's mouth lifted in a lazy smile as she affectionately rubbed her cheek against Anton's arm. "Buffy," she said haughtily, then frowned. "What happened to your hair?"
"Buffy?" Anton repeated loudly, a sneer on his face. "Buffy?!"
The entire hall went deadly quiet.
"The Slayer!" someone shouted, pointing an accusing finger.
Buffy and Spike froze in place.
Time for Plan B. ...Or is it C?
Author: NautiBitz
Note: This is my contribution to a round robin series called "Ring Around the Buffy", started by Annamarie of OGD, that unfortunately died in the water a few chapters after mine. I put it here because I think it can stand on its own. Check it out from the beginning here. See bottom of page for two different continuations (official and unofficial), and check out the FAQ if you're hot to see this continue.
Summary: Somewhere between mid-Season 5 and 6, in an effort to save an abducted Tara, Buffy and Spike road-tripped undercover to infiltrate a vampire-run human slavery ring in Las Vegas. So far: They've checked in to the hotel where the slave auctions will be held; slept in the same bed once (no nookie); Buffy reluctantly acted the part of Spike's slave; a worried Willow showed up uninvited, decked out in Evil!Willow gear and a vampiric glamour; Spike was taken with Will's new look and the newly-brunette Buffy got SO NOT jealous; she then found a towel-clad Spike in their shared hotel room, and in mid-argument/flirtation, ripped off his towel and shoved him outside the door. Whew! What happens now?
Timeline: I don't think we ever established a definite timeline, but it's before Buffy and Spike became an item on the show.
Pairing: Spike/Buffy
Rating: NC-17, biting
Disclaimer: You know the drill. 20th Century Fox Corp owns everyone but me.
Distribution: Outside links only, please.
Feedback: I'm a--SLAAAAVE...4 revUes! (See what I did there? Ahem.)
Completed: September 2001.
Buffy was laughing blithely, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the hotel room door.
"Buffy," she heard Spike reason calmly from the hallway. "Let me in."
"Sorry," she replied breezily. "I don't allow naked men in my room."
"Come on now," he ground out. "Appearances, remember? What'll I tell the vampire guest who'll inevitably walk by any bleedin' minute now?" His last words turned harsh, angry.
"You can tell them that you just 'appear' to be naked."
"Dammit, Slay--ve!"
She burst into laughter, punctuated by an 'aaah'. "Good cover."
He banged against the door. "Let me in!"
"Na-ah. This is way too much fun."
"Fun." Spike exhaled, and tried a different tack. "Tell me something, Buffy."
She was silent for a moment. "What?"
He smiled. "Did you know you always wanted me this much, or is it your seething jealousy that brought it out?"
The door flew open. "I am NOT jeal--!"
He jumped through the entryway and overtook her against the closet. "Gotcha."
She shoved him off. "Get your naked parts away from me."
"My 'parts' wouldn't be naked if you hadn't undressed me," he pointed out, leaning against the opposite closet. Cocking a brow, he asked, "So what's this about you wanting me?"
"I only said that to trick you," she huffed.
"Into ogling my naughty bits?"
"I didn't...'ogle'." She walked towards the bed. "And I don't want you."
"Yeah, whatever. Look," he said as he picked up his towel and rewrapped it around his waist, "as much as I love a good mind-fuck every now and then, you and I have work to do."
"When will you get it through your head that there IS no 'you and'--" Buffy spun around. "Huh?"
"Work. Preparation? We have no real plan to speak of and a damsel in distress we have to save."
Buffy straightened indignantly. "I have a plan."
"Yeah? Wanna let me in on it?"
"Okay." She tilted her chin. "We find Tara, then we dust them all."
"All three hundred of them."
"Uh-huh," she said, facade crumbling.
He scoffed. "Great plan."
"Okay, so what's your brilliant plan?"
"First things first. We have to prepare you."
"Prepare me?"
"Yes. Slave custom, appearance, etiquette, all that. Should've done it before but we didn't get the chance."
"You're enjoying this entirely too much."
"Maybe I am. But that's not the point." He approached her. "This is serious business here. Those vampires aren't playing around. If we screw up, we're in deep trouble. You, me, and your pretty witch pals."
'Pretty'? He'd never used that word before to describe...Not jealous. "I know."
"Good. So let's put everything aside and concentrate on the work at hand."
Buffy sighed. "Fine. What do we have to do?"
"Well first, I have to bite you. Then I have to teach you the right way to walk, talk, sit--"
"Woah. Woah, woah woah woah woah!" She put her hands up. "You have to bite me?"
He nodded soberly. "Yeah."
"And why exactly, other than the fact that this is probably the premise of your wettest dream?"
He smiled. "Actually..." He shook his head. "Hear me out, Slayer. There are two types of slaves here. The kind you feed on, and the kind you fuck. Which one would you rather be?"
She blinked at him, eyes lowering to his towel and quickly darting back up to his face. "Neither?"
"We're putting you on display tomorrow, and you have to prove your worth. Either you let me bite you in front of them, or you get down on your knees and--"
A speeding fist connected with his nose.
"Ow," Spike said, gingerly touching her target.
"Sorry, reflex," she explained curtly.
"Yeah, well, you get the point? Obviously you don't want--" he stepped back. "The other thing."
"I get it. But I still don't see why you have to bite me tonight."
"The only reason we made it through the night is you've got those scars," he pointed at her neck.
She covered her throat, suddenly shamed by her three vampire-inflicted scars. While every other mark on her body healed and disappeared, those stayed, like badges of dishonor.
"You need fresh ones, or they'll wonder what I've been doing with you all night."
"You can say you're creative," she offered. "You bit me somewhere else."
He smiled, the idea of biting her elsewhere distracting him momentarily. "That's a nice touch, but it has to be the neck. It's a mark of ownership," he explained.
She scrutinized him suspiciously. "How do you know so much about slaves anyway?"
"Let's not get off the subject, pet." He stepped closer to her.
"Well this is an absurd subject! You can't bite me, even if I let you."
"Can't I?" he asked, eyes fixed on her neck.
He was too close. She was getting nervous. "Not unless there's something important you haven't told me that'll make me have to stake you."
"Oh, the chip. If I don't intend to hurt you--"
"Newsflash, Einstein. Biting hurts."
His hand trailed down her shoulder, feather light. "Hurts bad?" He trailed it back up. "Or hurts good?"
She shivered unintentionally, remembering Dracula. And...Angel. Okay, so she wasn't really thinking about the pain when they... "Bad?"
He chuckled, looping her hair behind her ear and whispering into it, "Once more, with conviction."
This wasn't good. "Spike," she began, much more breathlessly than she'd intended it.
"Yeah?" he asked huskily, running a finger down her neck.
She pushed him back, hand on his chest. "Just one bite. And not too deep or too long, or I beat you to a bloody pulp. Got it?"
He nodded, smiling, stuck on the words 'deep' and 'long.' "Where do you want to do it?"
Buffy looked around awkwardly. "Um, right here, I guess."
"You sure? Maybe we should be--"
"Spike."
"Alright, have it your way. Now," he instructed, feeling a change come over his features. "Clear your mind. Don't think about the pain."
"Uh huh," she said, shutting her eyes tightly.
He pulled back. "Relax, Buffy."
"I am relaxed!"
"Love, your heartbeat could outrun the buggery Grand Prix."
She exhaled a laugh.
He smiled at her. "That's better."
"Will you just do it before I change my mind? Your demon face is way ugly."
Spike pulled her close and tight against his body. "S'that mean you like my human face?"
Before she could retort, he'd pierced her throat with his teeth.
She cried out, mostly in surprise. No pain, no pain, no pain, she told herself. And amazingly, there was none.
He maneuvered her roughly against the wall, convulsing and shaking her body along with his.
Her blood was exquisite. Pure. Hot. Powerful.
Delicious.
With a heady moan, she kneaded his shoulder blades, nails biting into his skin. Feeling something very hard and very large push against her thigh, Buffy found herself moving to accomodate it, to accomodate him, between her legs.
Rumbling like a jungle cat, he ground into her clothed heat as she bucked forward to meet him.
In the back of his mind, Spike recognized that this was the premise of his wettest dreams. But the demon in him was focused on the Slayer blood coating his esophagus. He held her tighter and sucked harder as he pressed his body fiercely against hers.
She whimpered, sliding her fingers down his back and resting them on the hem of his towel, which unceremoniously fell to the floor. When she wrapped her legs around him, he knew. He knew she wanted it too.
The man in Spike overpowered the monster and his fangs retracted. "Buffy," he gasped, overcome with lust.
Buffy tried to think clearly. He'd stopped sucking, they were still there against the wall, he was naked--and she was about thirty seconds away from tearing off all of her clothes. Now he was sneaking a hand under her shirt to cup her breast while raining kisses all over her face.
When he went for her mouth, she shot her head back.
He tried to read her expression.
"No," she said emphatically, and pushed him hard enough to propel him backwards onto the bed.
Spike propped himself up on his elbows and blinked at her.
Breathing heavily, Buffy touched her wounded neck. Her lower lip trembling, she stared with wide eyes at her blood-stained fingers, then at Spike. She straightened her shirt. "This isn't gonna happen."
"Buffy--"
"No," she said again, rushing over to her suitcase to grab her toiletry bag.
"I didn't mean to--"
"Stop. Just--don't." She didn't look at him. "We'll talk shop tomorrow," she called in an unsteady voice before heading to the bathroom and locking the door behind her.
Spike flopped his head back onto the bed. "Great. Bloody just great."
***
"And now, the next item for your viewing pleasure," the emcee barked jovially, "Master Spike's latest conquest."
A burst of applause rang through the hall.
Buffy peered out from her place in the wings, and looked at Spike standing beside her. He'd put on his vamp face, but she could tell he was scared. This wasn't good. If he was scared...
Before she could finish that thought, he'd tugged her by her collar out to center stage.
An interested murmur rippled through the crowd, and Buffy squinted into the lights to scan the audience. Vampires seated at tables, drinking blood martinis, leering at her.
"Spin around for the nice people, pet," Spike said. "Let 'em get a good look."
She obeyed and turned slowly, feeling naked and exposed.
"She's too skinny!" A man called out.
"Not nearly enough to snack on!" An amused woman yelled.
"Master Spike?" the emcee asked. "Why don't you give us a sample of what she's good for?"
"She's only good for one thing," Spike said smugly, and pushed Buffy onto her knees. His voice dropped to a lower register. "But she's very good at it."
Before her eyes, he unzipped his leather pants and bared his thick cock.
She gulped. This wasn't the plan... "Spike?" she asked in a tiny voice.
"Go on," Spike ordered. "Don't keep your audience waiting, girl."
In what felt like slow motion, she took it into her hands, and pressed her lips against its velvety tip. Opening her mouth, she dutifully brought him in.
"That's a good girl," he encouraged.
Spike wrapped his hand behind her head, prodding her on as she expertly bobbed against his pelvis.
"As you can see," she heard the emcee say, "she may not be suckable, but she really knows how to suck!"
The audience laughed and applauded wildly.
"And now for the best part," Spike said, and jumped on top of her.
Suddenly, they were naked and in their hotel room, fucking feverishly as he sucked on her neck.
I'm dreaming, Buffy realized, and woke up with a start.
No, dream good. She closed her eyes, trying to will herself back into the dream.
No luck.
As she realized where she was, Buffy suddenly felt very guilty for wanting to continue a sex dream with Spike. Speaking of Spike...
Thankfully not beside her, but close, and most likely awake. The television was on, providing the only light and sound in the room. Except for that little gasp...
She turned quietly in bed to see him slouched in the armchair beside the bed, eyes shut tight. His hand jerked in staccato rhythm under the sheet that just barely covered his hips.
Her eyes grew huge. He isn't. Buffy clapped a hand over her mouth. He is!
She knew she shouldn't be watching. But it was so intriguing: the look of ecstasy on his face, the wild abandon in his movement...
He accelerated his pace, faster, faster, faster, until the sheet fell away. "Buffy," he choked, and opened his eyes.
She saw surprise and a hint of embarrassment flash in his eyes before a more familiar expression took over. And now she couldn't pretend she hadn't been watching, that she wasn't still watching as he continued to pump, as his come shot recklessly into the air and settled on his chest and abdomen.
He kept his eyes on hers until the last drop was expelled.
Buffy was mesmerized.
"Like what you see?" he finally asked in the raspy, predatory voice she'd only heard once before, in her dream.
"No," she croaked hoarsely, then cleared her throat. "I was just..."
Spike sat up. "Fascinated? Turned on? Wet?"
As well as she could, Buffy restored her trademark indignance. "Hardly."
"Nice try," he said with a smug smile. "I can smell you from here."
Buffy tried to think of a good retort, but all she could come up with was, "Well, good for you."
"No argument there," he said with a satisfied sigh, folding his arms behind his head. "Now, then. Are you gonna sit there with your mouth open all night or are you gonna make yourself useful?"
Buffy scoffed. "Excuse me? Could you be any more presumptuous?"
"Actually, I was gonna ask you to throw me the tissues and my smokes."
"Oh."
"But I like your idea better."
"No, no..." Buffy reached over to the bedside table for his requests, then flung them his way.
He popped a cigarette into his mouth while he cleaned himself. Buffy wrinkled her nose at the display, but didn't turn away.
"So, Buffy," he said, flipping his lighter open and tossing the wadded tissues into the trashcan. "Now that we're on such intimate terms, why don't you tell me about the dream you just had."
She felt her cheeks redden. "Huh?"
"Your dream. You were moaning my name," he said with unabashed pride. "Again."
She hadn't called his name...had she? "You're lying."
"I'm not. Why do you think this happened?" He motioned to his crotch.
"Uh, because you're a pig?"
He chuckled, undeterred. "The dream," he reminded her.
She shrugged. "I don't remember it."
"A likely story."
"I don't!" She sat up. "Something about a Grail, and oh--killer bunnies," she prattled, grabbing inspiration from her previous dream.
Exhaling a stream of smoke, he looked her in the eye. "Yeah, Monty Python always gets me hot, too."
She shook her head and rolled over. "Good night, Spike."
"Well," he said, wrapping the sheet around his hips as he rose and moved towards the bed. "Scooch over then."
"No way!"
"This is my bed too, you know."
"Not while I'm in it."
"Look," he pleaded, "I'm--"
"Naked?"
"No..."
"Spent?"
He couldn't disagree with that. "Right. And now I need my beauty sleep."
She snorted, rolling to the opposite side of the bed. "If you think it'll help."
As he stretched out beside her he said, "Now, no more moaning my name or I'll be forced to make your dream come true."
"You'll die trying," she warned with a yawn.
"Be worth it," he said simply.
Drifting off to sleep, she said, "Yeah."
Spike lifted his brow, and smiled wide.
***
Buffy's eyes fluttered open. Must be morning, she thought regretfully. So comfy.
Sighing, she nuzzled against the firm pillow she was cuddling. The one that was also...cuddling her?
Not a pillow. Spike.
She assessed her position. One hand grasping his shoulder, one bare thigh draped possessively over his loins. His very naked loins.
His strong, muscled arms held her tight.
Buffy closed her eyes. A very persuasive part of her didn't want to move. Ever.
As long as he didn't wake up for a while, she could stay...
A hand ran tenderly through her hair. Damn, Buffy thought.
Lifting her head, she noticed the small pool of saliva she'd left on his chest. She wiped the corner of her mouth and looked up, redfaced.
"Morning, Sunshine," he said with a smile. "Cozy?"
Without warning, she shoved him out of bed and onto the floor.
"What?!"
"You did this!" she accused.
"I did not! I woke up just now, same as you, with you all wrapped around me like a bleedin' Hot Pocket!"
"I--" she started, flustered. "Well it's the way I slept with Riley every night. Obviously I forgot who you were."
Quietly, he asked, "Then why didn't you move the second you realized it was me?"
She stared at him, and his perfect, chiseled body. He had a point there.
"Because," she started, wracking her brain for a good explanation.
The phone rang. Right. The wake up call. Buffy exhaled in relief.
He smirked. "Saved by the bell," he said as he stood and brought the receiver to his ear. "For now."
***
"This feels kinda weird," a frowning Willow said as she held up the studded dog collar intended for Buffy's neck. "Dressing you up to put you on sale?"
"Tell me about it," Buffy said.
"Feels fine to me," Spike offered, nibbling on a cracker from the room service food cart.
Buffy snapped, "Who asked you?"
He sent her a cocky grin. "Who asked you, what?"
"Who asked you...Asshole?"
He approached her and said with seductive menace, "Better watch your mouth, missy."
"Or what? You'll scold me?"
He idly rubbed his chest. "No. I'll tell Red here about the Drool Incident."
In the stunned silence that followed, Willow's curiosity got the best of her. "The...'Drool Incident'?"
Glaring at Spike, Buffy punched him, hard.
"Goddamn it!" he shouted, wiping away noseblood. "The auction's in a sodding hour! Slayer bruises aren't exactly the height of fashion at these things!"
"You can say I gave them to you, Lover," Willow drawled sexily. "Sometimes I just can't control myself."
Spike brightened and commended, "Good thinking Will."
Buffy crossed her arms and repeated, "'Lover?'"
"Sorry," Willow deferred. "Just...gettin' into character."
"Could you not be that character until we've got an audience, please?" Buffy implored.
Spike leaned in to Willow conspiratorially. "Makes her jealous." Willow nodded, smiling.
"I am NOT jealous!" Buffy screeched, stomping a foot.
She was met with two skeptical expressions.
"I'm not! God, do you have any idea how humiliating this is for me? I've been practicing being Little Slave Girl all afternoon. To Spike!" Buffy explained, pointing at the offending vampire, then at Willow. "And you. I am not accustomed to this! I've never spent so much time on my knees in my life!"
Spike grinned. "But--"
"DON'T even go there," Buffy interrupted quickly.
He shrugged and walked back to the food tray.
"Asshole," Buffy said under her breath before pulling her hair back to let Willow attach the collar.
"I heard that," Spike said, stabbing a cube of cheese with a toothpick.
"Buffy, just remember that we're doing this for--What's that?" Willow asked, pointing at her friend's neck.
"What's what?" Buffy touched her neck. "Oh, that. It's nothing. Spike had to bite me. For, you know, authentic slave appearance." She added, "Or so he says."
"He bit you?" She turned to Spike. "You bit her?"
"Necessary evil," Spike explained coolly.
"But--you can't--the, the chip--he can't!"
"He can. Under certain uh, controlled types of circumstances," Buffy stammered.
Spike shot her a devious grin.
"But--ouch?" Willow pointed out.
"Who, me or her?" Spike asked casually.
"Her! You! Both of you!"
"Actually," Spike began, "it was fun for everyone."
"Spike!" Buffy hissed.
"Buffy?" Willow asked searchingly. "Fun?"
"Let's just drop it, okay?" Buffy begged.
Willow looked back and forth between the two, then shook it off. "Okay." She clasped the collar shut.
"So, am I slavey?"
Willow took in Buffy's new ensemble--tight red leather and chains, revealing in just the right places, but enough cover for a few strategically placed stakes. "Definitely slavey."
Spike strode around her. "Not bad. Not bad at all."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "As long as it pleases you, Master."
He stopped, arousal evident on his face. "Oh, it does."
"Stop leering at me," Buffy said, shifting uncomfortably. "What?"
"Just thinkin' about how much I can get for you."
Laughing, he ducked a swift right jab.
***
Buffy obediently followed Spike through the convention hall. Of course, she had no choice, as her collar was attached to the leash he pulled with great zeal.
Identification was now pinned to her front. She was #46. The slaves around her numbered up to the three hundred mark. She shuddered to think of how many innocent people had been captured, how many had died at the hands of these psychopaths.
"Bored now," Willow announced, running a finger down Buffy's cheek, the one they'd darkened with bruise-colored makeup. "Think I'll go find someone to drink."
Buffy knew this meant she was going to scan the room for Tara.
"Alright, love," Spike said distractedly. "Just be back in time for the show."
Buffy followed Spike's steely gaze to a dark, oversized vampire surrounded by several cronies and slaves. His commanding presence made it clear that he was a highly regarded Master.
Spike bristled. When he tugged on Buffy's leash twice--the code for Trouble with a capital T--she mentally checked off the placement of each one of her hidden stakes.
"Come," he said to Buffy. "I want you to meet someone."
He sauntered towards the vampire with Buffy in tow. The crowd parted. "Anton," he said.
Anton eyed Spike warily. "William the Bloody."
"Been a while," Spike said.
"Sixty, seventy years?"
Spike nodded once. "Give or take."
Anton's lips curled into an ugly grin. "I trust you've all heard of Spike," he said to his entourage. They nodded and murmured in salutation, some in obeisance. "Last I heard, you were in Sunnydale, aligned with...the Slayer."
Spike laughed and replied confidently, "Yeah. That's what she thought, too. Got the little chit right where I wanted her."
"Is that so?" Anton asked, voicing Buffy's first distrustful reaction.
He's just acting, Buffy reminded herself. This was not the time to start questioning Spike's motives. Surreptitiously, she studied Anton. Expensive suit. Butt-ugly face. When she caught his eye, she immediately looked down.
"She's a pretty one," Anton said, nodding at Buffy. "A little thin..."
"Tasty, though," Spike said. "And compliant. She was a real bitch to capture, resistant as hell."
"Ah, but that makes the conquest so much sweeter." Anton accosted Buffy and held her chin to roll her head from side to side. She avoided his eyes, but her anger was difficult to contain. "Yes, she has a fire, I can tell. You haven't broken her completely."
Oh, I'll break you completely, Buffy thought bitterly.
Anton said, "Not the rarest of creatures, but I like her."
"Well, she's on the block next hour," Spike said. Buffy bared her neck at his prompting.
"And you're willing to give her up?" Anton asked, trailing a finger down Buffy's new bitemarks.
Spike shrugged. "Time for new blood."
"Yes, I also like to keep my stable...fresh. Perhaps we could arrange a trade. Have you seen my latest aquisition? Nice and plump." He snapped his fingers, and a young, rubinesque girl appeared at his side. Buffy saw her outfit first. Black latex strips that left nothing to the imagination, full breasts entirely exposed. She looked up to attach a face to that scandalous ensemble.
Buffy's eyes widened, and the name fell out before she could stop it. "Tara?"
The corner of Tara's mouth lifted in a lazy smile as she affectionately rubbed her cheek against Anton's arm. "Buffy," she said haughtily, then frowned. "What happened to your hair?"
"Buffy?" Anton repeated loudly, a sneer on his face. "Buffy?!"
The entire hall went deadly quiet.
"The Slayer!" someone shouted, pointing an accusing finger.
Buffy and Spike froze in place.
Time for Plan B. ...Or is it C?
Chapter 10: Plan D
Plan D
The unofficial continuation of the round robin series Ring Around the Buffy picking up after NautiBitz's 'Naked'.
Author: 1st Rab-id/Raeann
The Story: Buffy and Spike go cross country and under cover to infiltrate a vampire human slavery ring.
Rating: R, language, violence, sexual situations
Disclaimer: Uhm...not only do I not own any of this...even the situation is not of my creating...Joss owns the characters...and OGD owns the original idea...I am just a HIRED GUN here...or a volunteer gun actually!
Spoilers: General Season 5.
Previously…NautiBitz wrote…Part 9…"NAKED"
(And I quote NautiBitz…)
The corner of Tara's mouth lifted in a lazy smile as she affectionately rubbed her cheek against Anton's arm. "Buffy," she said haughtily, then frowned. "What happened to your hair?"
"Buffy?" Anton repeated loudly, a sneer on his face. "Buffy?!"
The entire hall went deadly quiet.
"The Slayer!" someone shouted, pointing an accusing finger.
Buffy and Spike froze in place.
Time for Plan B. ...Or is it C?
(…END NautiBitz Quote…)
Plan D, actually…
“That’s right, mate,” Spike said, nodding, affably, at their accuser. “The Slayer!”
He cocked his head to one side and considered the crowd. It looked ugly. Spike decided a little harsh language couldn’t make things any worse. His eyes filled with a sort of manic glee that ran counterpoint to his fear as he addressed the assembly.
“Wondered when one of you bottom-feeders would recognize her,” he said. “She could have waltzed right in and dusted the lot of you before you even knew she was here. Where’s your instinct for survival, people?”
“Her hair’s a different color!” a tweedy vamp near the door said, defensively.
“Well, that explains it, then,” Spike scoffed, in acknowledgment of the heckler. “Only her bloody hairdresser would know for sure.”
There was a subliminal, but general, shift of the crowd as the news sank in. It left a wider circle around the pair than had been there before. Spike felt an inner surge of pride in his beloved’s reputation for devastation.
“And I know you’ll understand,” he continued, favoring Anton with a patronizing smile, “if I don’t care to exchange her for your over-ripe, shop-bruised, little plum.”
“Balls of cast-iron,” Buffy thought, as Spike, giving her leash a tug, turned on his heel and headed for the stage.
But Balls alone weren’t going to get them out of this alive. Spike hadn’t taken two steps before the hulking Anton and a couple of his buddies blocked the way.
“You expect us to believe that YOU enthralled the Slayer?” Butt-Ugly asked, obviously NOT buying it.
“I don’t much care what you believe,” Spike growled, craning his neck back slightly to lock eyes with the behemoth. “But like I said, ‘I got the chit right where I want her’.”
Buffy let her hand fall to the hilt of one of her hidden stakes as the tension level mounted. There were 40 or 50 vamps between her and the doorway. She could take twenty-five. Maybe thirty. On a good night. With surprise on her side. If she wasn’t particularly concerned about getting Tara out of there in one piece.
“I think you’re lying to us, William,” Anton continued, his fangs descending. “She may be the one in the collar but I think you’re the one on the short lead.”
He reached out with one massive digit and prodded Spike in the chest. From the chorus of accompanying murmurs, it seemed that the jig was up. Buffy tensed herself for the kick-off.
Spike caught the telltale skip of the Slayer’s heart and pulled her violently into his body catching her in a one-armed embrace. She resisted, instinctively, almost imperceptivity. The question in Spike’s mind was, “Who else noticed?”
“Then why aren’t you dead, Friend?” he asked, casually. “In case, you missed it before, that well-endowed treasure of yours is a buddy of the Slayer’s. You think she likes you parading her pal around like a summer-cut poodle?”
Anton and several others looked over to where Tara stood in all her lush glory. Then they looked back at the now impassive Slayer. Spike was petting her, stroking over her skin with firm authority. Buffy’s jagged pulse steadied. Her breathing slowed, deepened and took up the rhythm of Spike’s caresses.
The Slayer felt a surge of demonic power enter her body in a way that was totally unique in her experience. It made her flesh burn like cold fire. It was tactile hypnosis and it caught her off guard.
Dracula had used his eyes to enthrall her and the sound of his voice. Buffy knew that most vampires used a similar method. But Spike’s thrall was corporeal…definitely of the body. He was using his touch, his scent, and his proximity to seduce her.
Every one of the Slayer’s senses recoiled from this sort of submission but she forced herself to move past those instincts. Willing her body to relax into a meditative state, Buffy let everything else fall away. After a few moments, eyes closed, she rubbed her cheek against Spike’s shoulder in a conscious imitation of Tara.
Spike slipped his hand inside the cowl neck of Buffy’s soft leather dress and lightly traced the swell of one firm, high, breast. There was no change in the Slayer’s vital signs. He glided his fingertips in quick circles over her nipple until the skin around it pulled tight under his touch.
There was sudden and unmistakably earthy aroma radiating off the Slayer, an intoxicatingly primal perfume. Heat! Blood! Desire! It was a heady cocktail and Spike, at the epicenter of events, nearly lost his grip on the harsh reality of their peril. The circle of spectators drew closer, like moths to the Slayer’s flame.
“And you are willing to give her UP?!?” Anton repeated, with a lot more emphasis on the “up” this time.
“NO!” Spike thought, desperately, his hackles rising at the very idea. “God, No!”
But he stopped himself just short of saying it out loud.
Instead, he shifted his weight so that his hip pushed Buffy away from him. His hand slid across her chest and around to the nape of her neck. He grabbed a fistful of hair, tugging at it until her back arched slightly. He held her in that pose while he considered their position, the distance to the door, the mood of the crowd and how much of the truth he was willing to tell.
“I can’t fuck her,” he said, after a long pause.
“What?” Anton gasped, coincidentally, echoing the exact, slack-jawed tone of the "WHAT?" in Buffy’s mind. For a half-second the Slayer was sure that she'd spoken aloud.
“You gone deaf? Or am I just using words you don’t understand? Fuck…you know? Shag, Bang, Screw…Can’t!”
“They got a pill for THAT now,” a dark-skinned, weasel of a vamp joked to general laughter. He leaned out of the crowd and smacked Buffy’s ass for the visual gag.
There was a blur of motion as the Slayer struck. She tore free of Spike’s hold and thrust up under the comedian’s elbow until it snapped. Pivoting on one foot she brought the other around to connect with his temple as he fell sideways. Mr. Funny hit the ground, bounced once and didn’t move again. Game faces bloomed all over the room.
Spike knew a moment of abject panic and then he noticed that Buffy was standing very still. She wasn’t in her fighting stance. In fact, she looked positively pliant.
--“Spike!”-- Willow’s voice sounded in his head.
--“Buffy says, 'Play along.'”--
Another agonizing wave of admiration for the Slayer splashed down Spike’s torso to his groin. All he could think about for several seconds was where to find them a room. A room with no view, good solid walls and sturdy hardwood furniture…and a deadbolt…and soundproofing…preferably, in another part of the state.
With a great deal of effort, he brought himself back to the far less pleasant present.
--“Spike?”-- Willow prompted, anxiously.
--“On it,”-- he thought in reply and shut the mental trapdoor on Red’s follow-up question about Tara.
“They got a pill for terminal stupidity?” Spike commented, in an aside to Anton. “What will they think of next?”
With Masterful assurance, Spike reeled in Buffy’s leash. She came meekly back to his side as he turned to address the crowd.
“This is the SLAYER, people! Not some roadside strumpet or weak-willed Mama’s boy. Try to keep your soddin’ hands to yourselves.”
“But surely…if she’s under your control…” one of Anton’s cronies began.
Spike staked him with a glare.
“Ever done the thrall?” he asked and nodded, sagely, at the youngster’s sheepish look and negative shake of the head.
“Well, then…let me tell you it’s not an easy thing,” Spike continued. “To fill your mind with tenderness, devotion and concern…when every fiber of your being is crying out for blood and death and ripping destruction.”
Several of the Ancients in the crowd murmured their understanding of this point. The mood of the room clicked back toward relaxed and Buffy heaved an inward sigh. Whatever Spike was up to seemed to be working. The auction crowd was visibly more at ease.
The Slayer, however, was uncomfortably aware of her body. It was still reacting to Spike's hypnotic touch. Buffy realized she wanted him with what bordered on obscene intensity. She felt dirty, in a decidedly pleasurable way, all musty and crampy and more than a little bit whorish. The texture of the red leather dress teased at her nipples and icy sparks danced up and down her spine.
“Now, I won’t lie to you,” Spike was saying as Buffy struggled to tune back in, “Summers, here, is high maintenance. Drop your guard for moment…let go of the love…and she’ll hand you your head…minus the platter and garnish.”
“Her will is that strong?” Anton asked, plainly intrigued. “She’s still dangerous even under the thrall?”
“I’ve had her for three months and I don’t mind admitting that I’m just about spent,” Spike sighed, regretfully. “Tried everyway I can think of but I can’t keep her under it and fuck her at the same time. So, I am here to find the vamp that can.”
“Why don’t you just drain her dry?” a male Demon in platform shoes and polyester jump suit asked.
“Nothing like the rush of Slayer’s blood," his vampire companion supplied, to a general mutter of agreement.
“Spike knows about that first hand,” Anton replied, suddenly, coming over all fangs-and-friendship. “You’ve tasted it before, haven’t you?" he continued, while slapping Spike’s shoulder in camaraderie, “From two different Slayers, as I recall?”
“Three,” Spike corrected, cutting his glance toward Buffy.
“Is it as sweet as they say?” Anton asked, with a tad too much eagerness.
Despite his sycophantic entourage, hulking size and Master vamp mystique, Anton had never bagged a Slayer. He was far too civilized, too calculating, for the task. He only played games he knew he could win.
Spike, on the other hand, had mental acuity coupled with brash assurance. The combination allowed him to do what the well-manicured Anton never could. Spike took the necessary risks for his rewards.
And he wasn’t afraid of having his ass kicked for his troubles. In fact, as far as Spike was concerned, that was often the best part.
“Sweet enough,” Spike shrugged, “but my appetites have…changed.”
He let the word hang in the air.
Anton narrowed his eyes again but this time his penetrating gaze raked over Buffy in a way that made her skin crawl.
“And what are you asking for her?” the Master Vamp inquired in a business-like tone, just as Willow’s voice went off again in Spike’s head.
--“Spike? Buffy is about to start killing things. And Tara is near you. I can sense her but I can’t get close enough. Can you see her?” --
“Fair Blood Price,” Spike said, off-handedly, while mentally adding, -- “Meet us backstage. Go now!”--
Buffy knew that the more expensive slaves were sold for talent…Passion or Parade prices. Less valuable slaves were Blood Slaves. They were sold as food and drink.
“Like fine wine,” she thought, her mood incendiary, “or a good cow.”
“Not Passion Price?” Anton asked, with a lift of one eyebrow. “I thought you wanted her…broken.”
“Oh, I do,” Spike purred. “But I won’t drive a hard bargain. I’ll let her go at Blood Price to the right Demon.”
“SLAYER Blood Price, of course?” Anton guessed.
“Of course,” Spike conceded, one vamp of the world to another. His tone shifted and he added, “But there IS a condition on the sale.”
“A condition?”
“I wanna watch!”
“Watch? Watch what?” Anton asked. Thankfully, before Buffy forgot where she was and asked the same question.
“When she’s broken to saddle,” Spike replied, coldly. His eyes glowed yellow as he raked them over the Slayer and said, “I want a front row seat for the entire show. I wanna see her buck and shimmy and fight the inevitable until she is all lathered up and wobbly and begging for the bit in her mouth.”
There was a moment of stunned silence and then a cough of laughter that spread from vamp to vamp until it filled the room.
--“YIKES, SPIKE!” -- Willow yelped, telepathically. --“You have GOT to get Buffy out of there…RIGHT NOW!” --
But her warning was totally unnecessary. Spike knew he’d crossed the line. He was already moving forward, yanking hard on Buffy’s leash to throw her off balance. Her retaliatory strike turned into a stumble.
--“Get backstage,” -- Spike, mentally, snarled at Willow. -- “Find some place we can be alone…a nook, a cubbyhole, a bloody broom closet…anything.” --
Buffy had settled into a pressure cooker simmer at his back. Biding her time, Spike thought. He was under no illusions about how much she wanted to introduce him to a new level of pain. His only hope was to keep her moving at speed until they could find someplace where he could explain himself. The black leather of his duster fanned out as they mounted to the stage level.
A jittery myopic vampire with a clipboard in his hand intercepted Spike and Buffy as soon as they ducked through the curtain.
“#46! You aren’t up for almost an hour,” the undead stage manager fussed, “You’ll need to wait in the auditorium until you’re cal…”
Spike strong armed him aside without a word and made for Willow who was waving frantically from the left wing. There were people in chains arranging props and microphones behind the closed curtains. And a number of others huddled together in cages. Several vampires lounged about joking and gossiping and prodding the merchandise.
Spike didn’t allow the Slayer time to take much of it in. Jerking her forward, violently, every few steps, he kept up his brisk pace as they crossed to Willow's side.
“Where?” Spike barked, without ceremony.
“There,” the Witch said, pointing as she led them toward a gray door at the end of a short passageway. “It’s a prop room. The best I could find," she apologized, as she spell-keyed open the locks.
“Get rid of the census taker,” Spike ordered, jerking his chin back towards the clipboard-wielding vamp that had trotted along behind them. “We’re going to need a good twenty minutes here.”
“It’s REALLY not going to take me more than two or three,” Buffy snarled.
Willow looked from the Slayer to Spike and managed to duck out of the way just in time. Without preamble, the blond vampire whirled the Slayer around by her leash, gave her shoulder a hard shove and let go of the chain. Buffy staggered into the prop room, coming up short against a heavy metal desk with hip bruising force. Following close behind her, Spike slammed and bolted the door.
“You arrogant Bastard!!” Buffy growled.
“Hang on a minute, now! I…”
“You demon-animated, alley-crawling, sack of ashes! Who the HELL do you think you’re jerking around?”
She gripped the edge of the desk and the inch thick metal crumpled under her hand like aluminum foil. The ambient temperature in the room went up several degrees. Spike would have backed away from the heat but there wasn’t anywhere for him to go. He was in the one place no sane vampire would ever be caught in…tight quarters with an incredibly brassed-off Slayer.
“Got copped, Luv,” Spike soothed, holding up both hands in surrender, “had to think of something, dinnit I?”
Buffy wasn't mollified in the slightest. She crushed the tiny padlock at her throat, tore the collar from her neck and closed on him in a flash, snaking her leash out behind her like the lash of a whip.
“You want to see me broken?” she whispered, her eyes blazing. “You want to hear me beg?”
“Well…not…in a BAD way,” Spike hedged…afraid, for some reason, of being caught in a lie.
The tip of Buffy’s makeshift whip sang through the air toward his face. Spike put out one arm to block the blow. He realized, too late, that was exactly what the Slayer had expected him to do. The chain length wrapped around his wrist and Buffy jerked him forward into a brutal gut punch. The blow doubled him over as she ducked to the left and wound the slack of her former leash around his neck.
Within two heartbeats, Spike was thrown face down and pinned against the desktop. His left arm was trapped close to his chest and the Slayer had twisted his right arm around behind his back. She leaned into her hold on his wrist applying pressure until his joints creaked in protest. The chain cut deep into his throat.
Spike knew that the Slayer was capable of separating his head from his body with those delicate links. It was simply a matter of how much force she planned on exerting.
“I don’t beg, Spike,” Buffy breathed out, so close to his ear that he could feel his hair stir in response.
Spike tried to speak but only managed to choke out a few garbled syllables. Buffy relaxed her hold a fraction so that he could draw in enough air to reply. She showed no inclination to release him.
“I might,” he croaked. Shifting his position slightly and gaining some relief, he swallowed, convulsively, before adding, “Right person…”
“What are you babbling about?” Buffy snapped, impatiently.
When he failed to answer, she brought one knee up between his legs with firm deliberation. Spike made a small noise in the back of his throat. It was a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. Buffy halted her upward thrust just short of actually emasculating him and waited for further explanation.
“Beg,” Spike clarified, as soon as he could form words again. “I, said, ‘I might…for the right person’. Cut of the lash…bite of the collar…you sure that’s not what you want?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Buffy asserted, sliding her knee down and shifting her body weight back off of him. “That’s disgusting.”
“You think?”
The Slayer assessed their relative positions and bit her lip in consternation.
“Third Base,” her treacherous mind reminded her.
Slowly, she slackened the tension on Spike's choke chain. Then, with a small sigh, she released him entirely and stepped back.
“Okay, you are enjoying this way too much!”
“Oh, don’t pretend you never thought about it,” Spike rasped, massaging his throat as he straightened up.
He turned to face her, adjusting the set of his coat on his shoulders.
“About Bondage?" Buffy returned, her eyes wide and almost innocent. "Sorry! No!”
“About breaking me,” the vampire corrected. “Wiping the smirk off my face? Holding me down and having your way? Bending me to your will until I lose all self-restraint and independent reason?”
Buffy’s mind conjured up a swift montage of black leather, sharp white fangs and cherry red blood on pale skin. Her gaze strayed down, taking in Spike’s lean, fit, fully aroused person. She bit her lip again.
Spike studied the Slayer as she studied him. He knew what Buffy wanted. He knew it better than she did. He didn’t question that anymore. He was only waiting for her to admit the truth to herself.
When his beloved’s eyes finally flicked up to met his own, she smiled. The pink tip of her tongue flashed just behind the white of her teeth. Mouth lolling open in a wolfish grin, Spike closed on her in three swift strides.
He took hold of both of Buffy’s shoulders slamming her into the bolted door so violently that the wood split. She gasped into his kiss, gripping his face between her hands and digging her fingertips into his flesh. They clawed and bit at one another like the predators they were. No thought between them but to satisfy their mutual appetite.
“Oh, God, Slayer,” Spike choked into the foam of her hair, “I bet you come so hard we need a week to recover.”
Buffy murmured her agreement and slid one hand up over the bulge in the front of his jeans.
“Go down,” she commanded, knowing he would obey.
Showering her with kisses, Spike sank to his knees before the woman he loved. He pushed up the jagged edge of her red leather skirt and yanked down her matching thong. The tiny scrap of lingerie twisted around her ankles.
Cupping the swell of her hips in both hands, Spike drank in the scent of Buffy’s readiness. He sighed, rubbing his cheek along the line where her silken skin gave way to course curls.
Stepping out of her thong, Buffy hooked her right leg over Spike’s left shoulder. The heel of her strapy sandal bit into his back as she arched her body, in encouragement. Tilting her pelvis forward to meet his eager tongue, Spike lapped at her succulence, probing the softness and tickling the hardness of her. There was the barest hint of blood in her tangy fluid, just enough to entice his Demon into breaking the skin of her inner thigh for a deeper draught.
Buffy gasped as Spike’s fangs cut into her flesh. The sound changed to a strangled little cry as he, simultaneously, thrust two fingers deep into her slippery core. He timed his strokes, keeping pace with the beat of Buffy’s pulse against his tongue.
She clenched around him, soft as velvet, hard as steel and Spike knew he was going to come when she did. He needed to be buried inside her when that happened. He needed that more than he needed blood. More than he needed anything.
Breaking away from the bite, Spike pressed his forehead against Buffy’s abdomen as he fought for control. She was so close to release. He could feel the shudder building in her gut. He rocked back on his haunches to watch her writhe against the door. Their eyes met and Spike felt his insides liquify. He was so entranced by the play of emotion on Buffy's face that he froze in place, his slick fingers stilled in their work, his thumb resting on the hard nub of her arousal.
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, closing her eyes and knocking her head back against the door in frustration.
“I need you,” Spike said, simply.
The Slayer moaned her assent through lust-swollen lips. She let her leg slide from the vampire’s shoulder, reaching out to tug at him as he surged up into her arms. He raped her mouth with his tongue, forcing her open to his need. Fisting one hand in her hair, he braced himself against the wall with the other, but still he crushed her with the press of his body, as her fingers clawed at his clothing.
They broke the kiss just long enough for Buffy to gulp down fresh air.
“Take me in right now,” Spike growled, into her neck as she gasped, "all the way inside…and I swear you will love every minute of it.”
“Promise?” she panted.
“I’m your dog, baby! How could I lie to you?”
The boldness of him sobered her and she broke free, reversing their positions, pushing him back into the door.
“Bet your full of stupid pet tricks,” the Slayer rumbled, dangerously.
Spike tilted his head to one side, considering her mood. His eyes glittered but his voice, when he spoke again, was teasingly soft.
“You give me my bone, Luv,” he vowed, "and I'll do anything…anyway…anywhere…you say."
The full force of his earlier thrall came back to Buffy, in a wet rush. She reached out to take Spike’s hand, interlacing her fingers with his and pulling him with her as she backed across the room. When her ass smacked into the edge of the metal desk, she slapped the palm of her free hand down on its hard surface.
“You standing…me leaning across…do it from behind,” she directed.
“And then?”
“Then you up here on your back, me on top, face to face.”
Spike shifted his hips forward, rubbing the bulge of his erection against her as he whispered…
“And then?”
Narrowing her eyes at his blatant challenge, Buffy let her dress fall to the floor and was flattered with a tiny whimper from her loyal mutt.
“Then," she purred, guiding his hand to her breast, "you go down again and we’ll see if you can…
--“GUYS!”- - Willow’s telepathic intrusion splashed over them like a bucket of ice water. - - “Company’s coming.” - -
“Bloody HELL!” Buffy exclaimed, in frustrated unison with Spike, as the room door was ripped off of its hinges.
Three enormous vampires shouldered their way into the small area. They, angrily, thrust forward one, handcuffed, redheaded witch, in obvious need of a new Vampire Glamour Spell.
"We are so busted," Willow said, sheepishly…taking the words right out of the stark-naked Slayer's mouth.
A/N: Here ends the story as written by the Round Robin organized by Nautibitz. My continuation of the story will be posted separately under the name "Ring Around the Buffy - Conculsion." Now that we are getting to the new stuff, the posts will be a little slower as I review/revise what I have written. As always, your comments matter, so please REVIEW. I'd love to hear your ideas on where you think this story is heading, and will try to incorporate your suggestions if they work with what I already have. I will probably post on Thursdays and Saturdays.
The unofficial continuation of the round robin series Ring Around the Buffy picking up after NautiBitz's 'Naked'.
Author: 1st Rab-id/Raeann
The Story: Buffy and Spike go cross country and under cover to infiltrate a vampire human slavery ring.
Rating: R, language, violence, sexual situations
Disclaimer: Uhm...not only do I not own any of this...even the situation is not of my creating...Joss owns the characters...and OGD owns the original idea...I am just a HIRED GUN here...or a volunteer gun actually!
Spoilers: General Season 5.
Previously…NautiBitz wrote…Part 9…"NAKED"
(And I quote NautiBitz…)
The corner of Tara's mouth lifted in a lazy smile as she affectionately rubbed her cheek against Anton's arm. "Buffy," she said haughtily, then frowned. "What happened to your hair?"
"Buffy?" Anton repeated loudly, a sneer on his face. "Buffy?!"
The entire hall went deadly quiet.
"The Slayer!" someone shouted, pointing an accusing finger.
Buffy and Spike froze in place.
Time for Plan B. ...Or is it C?
(…END NautiBitz Quote…)
Plan D, actually…
“That’s right, mate,” Spike said, nodding, affably, at their accuser. “The Slayer!”
He cocked his head to one side and considered the crowd. It looked ugly. Spike decided a little harsh language couldn’t make things any worse. His eyes filled with a sort of manic glee that ran counterpoint to his fear as he addressed the assembly.
“Wondered when one of you bottom-feeders would recognize her,” he said. “She could have waltzed right in and dusted the lot of you before you even knew she was here. Where’s your instinct for survival, people?”
“Her hair’s a different color!” a tweedy vamp near the door said, defensively.
“Well, that explains it, then,” Spike scoffed, in acknowledgment of the heckler. “Only her bloody hairdresser would know for sure.”
There was a subliminal, but general, shift of the crowd as the news sank in. It left a wider circle around the pair than had been there before. Spike felt an inner surge of pride in his beloved’s reputation for devastation.
“And I know you’ll understand,” he continued, favoring Anton with a patronizing smile, “if I don’t care to exchange her for your over-ripe, shop-bruised, little plum.”
“Balls of cast-iron,” Buffy thought, as Spike, giving her leash a tug, turned on his heel and headed for the stage.
But Balls alone weren’t going to get them out of this alive. Spike hadn’t taken two steps before the hulking Anton and a couple of his buddies blocked the way.
“You expect us to believe that YOU enthralled the Slayer?” Butt-Ugly asked, obviously NOT buying it.
“I don’t much care what you believe,” Spike growled, craning his neck back slightly to lock eyes with the behemoth. “But like I said, ‘I got the chit right where I want her’.”
Buffy let her hand fall to the hilt of one of her hidden stakes as the tension level mounted. There were 40 or 50 vamps between her and the doorway. She could take twenty-five. Maybe thirty. On a good night. With surprise on her side. If she wasn’t particularly concerned about getting Tara out of there in one piece.
“I think you’re lying to us, William,” Anton continued, his fangs descending. “She may be the one in the collar but I think you’re the one on the short lead.”
He reached out with one massive digit and prodded Spike in the chest. From the chorus of accompanying murmurs, it seemed that the jig was up. Buffy tensed herself for the kick-off.
Spike caught the telltale skip of the Slayer’s heart and pulled her violently into his body catching her in a one-armed embrace. She resisted, instinctively, almost imperceptivity. The question in Spike’s mind was, “Who else noticed?”
“Then why aren’t you dead, Friend?” he asked, casually. “In case, you missed it before, that well-endowed treasure of yours is a buddy of the Slayer’s. You think she likes you parading her pal around like a summer-cut poodle?”
Anton and several others looked over to where Tara stood in all her lush glory. Then they looked back at the now impassive Slayer. Spike was petting her, stroking over her skin with firm authority. Buffy’s jagged pulse steadied. Her breathing slowed, deepened and took up the rhythm of Spike’s caresses.
The Slayer felt a surge of demonic power enter her body in a way that was totally unique in her experience. It made her flesh burn like cold fire. It was tactile hypnosis and it caught her off guard.
Dracula had used his eyes to enthrall her and the sound of his voice. Buffy knew that most vampires used a similar method. But Spike’s thrall was corporeal…definitely of the body. He was using his touch, his scent, and his proximity to seduce her.
Every one of the Slayer’s senses recoiled from this sort of submission but she forced herself to move past those instincts. Willing her body to relax into a meditative state, Buffy let everything else fall away. After a few moments, eyes closed, she rubbed her cheek against Spike’s shoulder in a conscious imitation of Tara.
Spike slipped his hand inside the cowl neck of Buffy’s soft leather dress and lightly traced the swell of one firm, high, breast. There was no change in the Slayer’s vital signs. He glided his fingertips in quick circles over her nipple until the skin around it pulled tight under his touch.
There was sudden and unmistakably earthy aroma radiating off the Slayer, an intoxicatingly primal perfume. Heat! Blood! Desire! It was a heady cocktail and Spike, at the epicenter of events, nearly lost his grip on the harsh reality of their peril. The circle of spectators drew closer, like moths to the Slayer’s flame.
“And you are willing to give her UP?!?” Anton repeated, with a lot more emphasis on the “up” this time.
“NO!” Spike thought, desperately, his hackles rising at the very idea. “God, No!”
But he stopped himself just short of saying it out loud.
Instead, he shifted his weight so that his hip pushed Buffy away from him. His hand slid across her chest and around to the nape of her neck. He grabbed a fistful of hair, tugging at it until her back arched slightly. He held her in that pose while he considered their position, the distance to the door, the mood of the crowd and how much of the truth he was willing to tell.
“I can’t fuck her,” he said, after a long pause.
“What?” Anton gasped, coincidentally, echoing the exact, slack-jawed tone of the "WHAT?" in Buffy’s mind. For a half-second the Slayer was sure that she'd spoken aloud.
“You gone deaf? Or am I just using words you don’t understand? Fuck…you know? Shag, Bang, Screw…Can’t!”
“They got a pill for THAT now,” a dark-skinned, weasel of a vamp joked to general laughter. He leaned out of the crowd and smacked Buffy’s ass for the visual gag.
There was a blur of motion as the Slayer struck. She tore free of Spike’s hold and thrust up under the comedian’s elbow until it snapped. Pivoting on one foot she brought the other around to connect with his temple as he fell sideways. Mr. Funny hit the ground, bounced once and didn’t move again. Game faces bloomed all over the room.
Spike knew a moment of abject panic and then he noticed that Buffy was standing very still. She wasn’t in her fighting stance. In fact, she looked positively pliant.
--“Spike!”-- Willow’s voice sounded in his head.
--“Buffy says, 'Play along.'”--
Another agonizing wave of admiration for the Slayer splashed down Spike’s torso to his groin. All he could think about for several seconds was where to find them a room. A room with no view, good solid walls and sturdy hardwood furniture…and a deadbolt…and soundproofing…preferably, in another part of the state.
With a great deal of effort, he brought himself back to the far less pleasant present.
--“Spike?”-- Willow prompted, anxiously.
--“On it,”-- he thought in reply and shut the mental trapdoor on Red’s follow-up question about Tara.
“They got a pill for terminal stupidity?” Spike commented, in an aside to Anton. “What will they think of next?”
With Masterful assurance, Spike reeled in Buffy’s leash. She came meekly back to his side as he turned to address the crowd.
“This is the SLAYER, people! Not some roadside strumpet or weak-willed Mama’s boy. Try to keep your soddin’ hands to yourselves.”
“But surely…if she’s under your control…” one of Anton’s cronies began.
Spike staked him with a glare.
“Ever done the thrall?” he asked and nodded, sagely, at the youngster’s sheepish look and negative shake of the head.
“Well, then…let me tell you it’s not an easy thing,” Spike continued. “To fill your mind with tenderness, devotion and concern…when every fiber of your being is crying out for blood and death and ripping destruction.”
Several of the Ancients in the crowd murmured their understanding of this point. The mood of the room clicked back toward relaxed and Buffy heaved an inward sigh. Whatever Spike was up to seemed to be working. The auction crowd was visibly more at ease.
The Slayer, however, was uncomfortably aware of her body. It was still reacting to Spike's hypnotic touch. Buffy realized she wanted him with what bordered on obscene intensity. She felt dirty, in a decidedly pleasurable way, all musty and crampy and more than a little bit whorish. The texture of the red leather dress teased at her nipples and icy sparks danced up and down her spine.
“Now, I won’t lie to you,” Spike was saying as Buffy struggled to tune back in, “Summers, here, is high maintenance. Drop your guard for moment…let go of the love…and she’ll hand you your head…minus the platter and garnish.”
“Her will is that strong?” Anton asked, plainly intrigued. “She’s still dangerous even under the thrall?”
“I’ve had her for three months and I don’t mind admitting that I’m just about spent,” Spike sighed, regretfully. “Tried everyway I can think of but I can’t keep her under it and fuck her at the same time. So, I am here to find the vamp that can.”
“Why don’t you just drain her dry?” a male Demon in platform shoes and polyester jump suit asked.
“Nothing like the rush of Slayer’s blood," his vampire companion supplied, to a general mutter of agreement.
“Spike knows about that first hand,” Anton replied, suddenly, coming over all fangs-and-friendship. “You’ve tasted it before, haven’t you?" he continued, while slapping Spike’s shoulder in camaraderie, “From two different Slayers, as I recall?”
“Three,” Spike corrected, cutting his glance toward Buffy.
“Is it as sweet as they say?” Anton asked, with a tad too much eagerness.
Despite his sycophantic entourage, hulking size and Master vamp mystique, Anton had never bagged a Slayer. He was far too civilized, too calculating, for the task. He only played games he knew he could win.
Spike, on the other hand, had mental acuity coupled with brash assurance. The combination allowed him to do what the well-manicured Anton never could. Spike took the necessary risks for his rewards.
And he wasn’t afraid of having his ass kicked for his troubles. In fact, as far as Spike was concerned, that was often the best part.
“Sweet enough,” Spike shrugged, “but my appetites have…changed.”
He let the word hang in the air.
Anton narrowed his eyes again but this time his penetrating gaze raked over Buffy in a way that made her skin crawl.
“And what are you asking for her?” the Master Vamp inquired in a business-like tone, just as Willow’s voice went off again in Spike’s head.
--“Spike? Buffy is about to start killing things. And Tara is near you. I can sense her but I can’t get close enough. Can you see her?” --
“Fair Blood Price,” Spike said, off-handedly, while mentally adding, -- “Meet us backstage. Go now!”--
Buffy knew that the more expensive slaves were sold for talent…Passion or Parade prices. Less valuable slaves were Blood Slaves. They were sold as food and drink.
“Like fine wine,” she thought, her mood incendiary, “or a good cow.”
“Not Passion Price?” Anton asked, with a lift of one eyebrow. “I thought you wanted her…broken.”
“Oh, I do,” Spike purred. “But I won’t drive a hard bargain. I’ll let her go at Blood Price to the right Demon.”
“SLAYER Blood Price, of course?” Anton guessed.
“Of course,” Spike conceded, one vamp of the world to another. His tone shifted and he added, “But there IS a condition on the sale.”
“A condition?”
“I wanna watch!”
“Watch? Watch what?” Anton asked. Thankfully, before Buffy forgot where she was and asked the same question.
“When she’s broken to saddle,” Spike replied, coldly. His eyes glowed yellow as he raked them over the Slayer and said, “I want a front row seat for the entire show. I wanna see her buck and shimmy and fight the inevitable until she is all lathered up and wobbly and begging for the bit in her mouth.”
There was a moment of stunned silence and then a cough of laughter that spread from vamp to vamp until it filled the room.
--“YIKES, SPIKE!” -- Willow yelped, telepathically. --“You have GOT to get Buffy out of there…RIGHT NOW!” --
But her warning was totally unnecessary. Spike knew he’d crossed the line. He was already moving forward, yanking hard on Buffy’s leash to throw her off balance. Her retaliatory strike turned into a stumble.
--“Get backstage,” -- Spike, mentally, snarled at Willow. -- “Find some place we can be alone…a nook, a cubbyhole, a bloody broom closet…anything.” --
Buffy had settled into a pressure cooker simmer at his back. Biding her time, Spike thought. He was under no illusions about how much she wanted to introduce him to a new level of pain. His only hope was to keep her moving at speed until they could find someplace where he could explain himself. The black leather of his duster fanned out as they mounted to the stage level.
A jittery myopic vampire with a clipboard in his hand intercepted Spike and Buffy as soon as they ducked through the curtain.
“#46! You aren’t up for almost an hour,” the undead stage manager fussed, “You’ll need to wait in the auditorium until you’re cal…”
Spike strong armed him aside without a word and made for Willow who was waving frantically from the left wing. There were people in chains arranging props and microphones behind the closed curtains. And a number of others huddled together in cages. Several vampires lounged about joking and gossiping and prodding the merchandise.
Spike didn’t allow the Slayer time to take much of it in. Jerking her forward, violently, every few steps, he kept up his brisk pace as they crossed to Willow's side.
“Where?” Spike barked, without ceremony.
“There,” the Witch said, pointing as she led them toward a gray door at the end of a short passageway. “It’s a prop room. The best I could find," she apologized, as she spell-keyed open the locks.
“Get rid of the census taker,” Spike ordered, jerking his chin back towards the clipboard-wielding vamp that had trotted along behind them. “We’re going to need a good twenty minutes here.”
“It’s REALLY not going to take me more than two or three,” Buffy snarled.
Willow looked from the Slayer to Spike and managed to duck out of the way just in time. Without preamble, the blond vampire whirled the Slayer around by her leash, gave her shoulder a hard shove and let go of the chain. Buffy staggered into the prop room, coming up short against a heavy metal desk with hip bruising force. Following close behind her, Spike slammed and bolted the door.
“You arrogant Bastard!!” Buffy growled.
“Hang on a minute, now! I…”
“You demon-animated, alley-crawling, sack of ashes! Who the HELL do you think you’re jerking around?”
She gripped the edge of the desk and the inch thick metal crumpled under her hand like aluminum foil. The ambient temperature in the room went up several degrees. Spike would have backed away from the heat but there wasn’t anywhere for him to go. He was in the one place no sane vampire would ever be caught in…tight quarters with an incredibly brassed-off Slayer.
“Got copped, Luv,” Spike soothed, holding up both hands in surrender, “had to think of something, dinnit I?”
Buffy wasn't mollified in the slightest. She crushed the tiny padlock at her throat, tore the collar from her neck and closed on him in a flash, snaking her leash out behind her like the lash of a whip.
“You want to see me broken?” she whispered, her eyes blazing. “You want to hear me beg?”
“Well…not…in a BAD way,” Spike hedged…afraid, for some reason, of being caught in a lie.
The tip of Buffy’s makeshift whip sang through the air toward his face. Spike put out one arm to block the blow. He realized, too late, that was exactly what the Slayer had expected him to do. The chain length wrapped around his wrist and Buffy jerked him forward into a brutal gut punch. The blow doubled him over as she ducked to the left and wound the slack of her former leash around his neck.
Within two heartbeats, Spike was thrown face down and pinned against the desktop. His left arm was trapped close to his chest and the Slayer had twisted his right arm around behind his back. She leaned into her hold on his wrist applying pressure until his joints creaked in protest. The chain cut deep into his throat.
Spike knew that the Slayer was capable of separating his head from his body with those delicate links. It was simply a matter of how much force she planned on exerting.
“I don’t beg, Spike,” Buffy breathed out, so close to his ear that he could feel his hair stir in response.
Spike tried to speak but only managed to choke out a few garbled syllables. Buffy relaxed her hold a fraction so that he could draw in enough air to reply. She showed no inclination to release him.
“I might,” he croaked. Shifting his position slightly and gaining some relief, he swallowed, convulsively, before adding, “Right person…”
“What are you babbling about?” Buffy snapped, impatiently.
When he failed to answer, she brought one knee up between his legs with firm deliberation. Spike made a small noise in the back of his throat. It was a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. Buffy halted her upward thrust just short of actually emasculating him and waited for further explanation.
“Beg,” Spike clarified, as soon as he could form words again. “I, said, ‘I might…for the right person’. Cut of the lash…bite of the collar…you sure that’s not what you want?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Buffy asserted, sliding her knee down and shifting her body weight back off of him. “That’s disgusting.”
“You think?”
The Slayer assessed their relative positions and bit her lip in consternation.
“Third Base,” her treacherous mind reminded her.
Slowly, she slackened the tension on Spike's choke chain. Then, with a small sigh, she released him entirely and stepped back.
“Okay, you are enjoying this way too much!”
“Oh, don’t pretend you never thought about it,” Spike rasped, massaging his throat as he straightened up.
He turned to face her, adjusting the set of his coat on his shoulders.
“About Bondage?" Buffy returned, her eyes wide and almost innocent. "Sorry! No!”
“About breaking me,” the vampire corrected. “Wiping the smirk off my face? Holding me down and having your way? Bending me to your will until I lose all self-restraint and independent reason?”
Buffy’s mind conjured up a swift montage of black leather, sharp white fangs and cherry red blood on pale skin. Her gaze strayed down, taking in Spike’s lean, fit, fully aroused person. She bit her lip again.
Spike studied the Slayer as she studied him. He knew what Buffy wanted. He knew it better than she did. He didn’t question that anymore. He was only waiting for her to admit the truth to herself.
When his beloved’s eyes finally flicked up to met his own, she smiled. The pink tip of her tongue flashed just behind the white of her teeth. Mouth lolling open in a wolfish grin, Spike closed on her in three swift strides.
He took hold of both of Buffy’s shoulders slamming her into the bolted door so violently that the wood split. She gasped into his kiss, gripping his face between her hands and digging her fingertips into his flesh. They clawed and bit at one another like the predators they were. No thought between them but to satisfy their mutual appetite.
“Oh, God, Slayer,” Spike choked into the foam of her hair, “I bet you come so hard we need a week to recover.”
Buffy murmured her agreement and slid one hand up over the bulge in the front of his jeans.
“Go down,” she commanded, knowing he would obey.
Showering her with kisses, Spike sank to his knees before the woman he loved. He pushed up the jagged edge of her red leather skirt and yanked down her matching thong. The tiny scrap of lingerie twisted around her ankles.
Cupping the swell of her hips in both hands, Spike drank in the scent of Buffy’s readiness. He sighed, rubbing his cheek along the line where her silken skin gave way to course curls.
Stepping out of her thong, Buffy hooked her right leg over Spike’s left shoulder. The heel of her strapy sandal bit into his back as she arched her body, in encouragement. Tilting her pelvis forward to meet his eager tongue, Spike lapped at her succulence, probing the softness and tickling the hardness of her. There was the barest hint of blood in her tangy fluid, just enough to entice his Demon into breaking the skin of her inner thigh for a deeper draught.
Buffy gasped as Spike’s fangs cut into her flesh. The sound changed to a strangled little cry as he, simultaneously, thrust two fingers deep into her slippery core. He timed his strokes, keeping pace with the beat of Buffy’s pulse against his tongue.
She clenched around him, soft as velvet, hard as steel and Spike knew he was going to come when she did. He needed to be buried inside her when that happened. He needed that more than he needed blood. More than he needed anything.
Breaking away from the bite, Spike pressed his forehead against Buffy’s abdomen as he fought for control. She was so close to release. He could feel the shudder building in her gut. He rocked back on his haunches to watch her writhe against the door. Their eyes met and Spike felt his insides liquify. He was so entranced by the play of emotion on Buffy's face that he froze in place, his slick fingers stilled in their work, his thumb resting on the hard nub of her arousal.
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, closing her eyes and knocking her head back against the door in frustration.
“I need you,” Spike said, simply.
The Slayer moaned her assent through lust-swollen lips. She let her leg slide from the vampire’s shoulder, reaching out to tug at him as he surged up into her arms. He raped her mouth with his tongue, forcing her open to his need. Fisting one hand in her hair, he braced himself against the wall with the other, but still he crushed her with the press of his body, as her fingers clawed at his clothing.
They broke the kiss just long enough for Buffy to gulp down fresh air.
“Take me in right now,” Spike growled, into her neck as she gasped, "all the way inside…and I swear you will love every minute of it.”
“Promise?” she panted.
“I’m your dog, baby! How could I lie to you?”
The boldness of him sobered her and she broke free, reversing their positions, pushing him back into the door.
“Bet your full of stupid pet tricks,” the Slayer rumbled, dangerously.
Spike tilted his head to one side, considering her mood. His eyes glittered but his voice, when he spoke again, was teasingly soft.
“You give me my bone, Luv,” he vowed, "and I'll do anything…anyway…anywhere…you say."
The full force of his earlier thrall came back to Buffy, in a wet rush. She reached out to take Spike’s hand, interlacing her fingers with his and pulling him with her as she backed across the room. When her ass smacked into the edge of the metal desk, she slapped the palm of her free hand down on its hard surface.
“You standing…me leaning across…do it from behind,” she directed.
“And then?”
“Then you up here on your back, me on top, face to face.”
Spike shifted his hips forward, rubbing the bulge of his erection against her as he whispered…
“And then?”
Narrowing her eyes at his blatant challenge, Buffy let her dress fall to the floor and was flattered with a tiny whimper from her loyal mutt.
“Then," she purred, guiding his hand to her breast, "you go down again and we’ll see if you can…
--“GUYS!”- - Willow’s telepathic intrusion splashed over them like a bucket of ice water. - - “Company’s coming.” - -
“Bloody HELL!” Buffy exclaimed, in frustrated unison with Spike, as the room door was ripped off of its hinges.
Three enormous vampires shouldered their way into the small area. They, angrily, thrust forward one, handcuffed, redheaded witch, in obvious need of a new Vampire Glamour Spell.
"We are so busted," Willow said, sheepishly…taking the words right out of the stark-naked Slayer's mouth.
A/N: Here ends the story as written by the Round Robin organized by Nautibitz. My continuation of the story will be posted separately under the name "Ring Around the Buffy - Conculsion." Now that we are getting to the new stuff, the posts will be a little slower as I review/revise what I have written. As always, your comments matter, so please REVIEW. I'd love to hear your ideas on where you think this story is heading, and will try to incorporate your suggestions if they work with what I already have. I will probably post on Thursdays and Saturdays.
If you are under the age of 17, please use your head and do not read fics that are labeled "NC-17". Parents, I cannot control what your children are reading, so please be advised that the majority of the fics archived here are NOT suitable for those under the age of 17.
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer and I am in no way making any profit from this site. This is for pure entertainment purposes only.
Concept: (c)bringonthebloodshed.com (2004), Code & Design: (c)Diabola (2006), Graphics: Selene & Always